


Don't Fear The Reaper

by Wwarborday



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Comedy, Coming of Age, Existential Angst, Gen, Nuzlocke, The Theme for This Is Actually "Kokomo", dualocke?, duolocke, existential comedy, leis, two types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2020-11-23 01:11:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20883716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wwarborday/pseuds/Wwarborday
Summary: Death goes on vacation in Alola. They get a Rowlet.





	1. Chapter One

Kukui is surprised the photo prints out.  
  
Some part of him had thought, “Maybe they’re like a vampire. Maybe they won’t show up, and I’ll have to print a blank photo on their passport.”  
  
But no. The picture is clear as day; a black-robed entity in front of a white background. Their hood covers their face.  
  
There is a lei around their neck.  
  
They insisted on it.  
  
“Alright,” Kukui says. His voice has stopped shaking, so that’s nice. “Everything looks good on your Trainer Passport.” He hands it over.  
  
Death takes it with slim, gray fingers. (Kukui is grateful that Death does not appear to be a literal skeleton. All he can see of their face is their pointed chin, but it does seem to be made of flesh. Strange, gray flesh, but flesh all the same). “Thank you,” they say. Their voice is so soothing that is loops right back around into unnerving.  
  
“You’re welcome.” Kukui is doing his best to be hospitable, to hold up the Alolan spirit, but oh boy. Oh man. This is an exercise in his ability to keep calm, to keep still, and he isn’t particularly good at either.  
  
“So!” he says, because if he doesn’t talk, he will scream. “Vacation, huh?”  
  
Death has a small pouch hanging from a rope belt around their waist. Carefully, they open the pouch and place their Passport inside, before pulling the tiny strings closed. “Yes. My colleagues insisted I take one.” They steeple their fingers together. “War said Alola is lovely this time of year.”  
  
Ice creeps down Kukui’s spine. “You’re not, ah. Are all of you-”  
  
“Oh, no,” Death says, reassuringly. “It is just me. The four of us only get together for apocalypses. That’s why they insisted on this vacation, actually. We’ve been quite busy.”  
  
Kukui almost asks, then thinks better of it. "Right," he says. "Well. Uh." He hands Death a leather necklace with a wooden carving. "Uh, this is your challenge amulet; when you beat a trial, you'll get a bead, and you can string it on there."

The amulet, too goes in the pouch. 

Death stands up, brushing off their robe. “Would you point in the direction of the nearest library? It was recommended I do research before taking on your trials.”  
  
Kukui frowns. “You need information?”  
  
“Sorely.”  
  
“Huh,” Kukui says. “I think I know a guy who’d be perfect for that.”  
  
  
  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
  
He broods.  
  
That’s most of what he does these days.  
  
(And how many days has it been?)  
  
Once, he thought about leaving. Heading to Hau’oli, maybe. Somewhere where people would talk to him.  
  
They used to talk to him.  
  
He’s given up on getting that back.  
  
He supposes that he’ll spend his second life here, then. He passes the time by scaring Trainers. They’ll pick up a “lost” Pokedex, and shriek when he grins back at them. Sometimes he seeps back into himself, and tries to access the internet.  
  
It never works.  
  
He’s hovered himself to a nice little bush for the evening. Most Pokemon around here leave him alone, so he doesn’t really need shelter, but it. It’s nice. It’s a comfort he can give himself.  
  
He’s settling down for the night, preparing to put himself into sleep mode, when he feels it.  
  
It’s nothing as dramatic as thunder and lightning. _This _is more like when you realize you’re being watched. When you know that someone can see you, can feel their eyes on the back of your head.  
  
He knows, instinctively, that Death is aware of him in the same way he is aware of Death, and he hovers out from his bush without hesitation. He knows there is no use in hiding.  
  
Death wears a lei.  
  
“Huh,” he says.  
  
“Hello,” Death says.  
  
He looks at him, wary. “Are you here for me?”  
  
Death taps their fingers against what is probably their thigh. (Do they even have human anatomy under that robe?) “I am here for a Pokedex.”  
  
He doesn’t have a tongue anymore, but if he did, he would be chewing it.  
  
Finally, he says, “What happens when I let go?”  
  
He hopes for comfort, peace, an assurance.  
  
Death says, “I do not know.”  
  
“What?!”  
  
“I am Death.” They speak matter-of-factly, like entities speak to Rotoms all the time. “I do not know what is after me. I know only what I am.”  
  
He hesitates. “If. If you don’t know what happens after, then what are you?”  
  
When Death speaks, it almost sounds like they are smiling. “I am Death. I am The End.”  
  
“So.” It’s just what he’s been afraid of. “There’s nothing after you?”  
  
“I do not know,” Death says patiently.  
  
Fuck.  
  
“If I help you,” he says suddenly, desperately. “Will you still. Will you still have to take me? Or. Or can I be safe? Can I just be like this?”  
  
He cannot see Death’s eyes, but he imagines them to be steady. “Everything has a time. There is no special treatment.” After a moment, they add; “I am sorry.”  
  
Fuck.  
  
_Fuck_.  
  
A thought occurs to him; “How did you know I was here?”  
  
“Professor Kukui pointed me your way.” Death says. “He believed I would get along well with a ghost.”  
  
He can’t help himself; he snorts.  
  
He swears he sees the hood shift, sees a smile for a split second.  
  
“I,” he says. His voice crackles from his speaker. “I don’t want to die.”  
  
“No,” Death agrees. “People never do.”  
  
He hesitates.  
  
“Alright,” he says. If he still had a stomach, it would be twisted. He hates everything about this, but he hates not doing it even more. (He wants to be ten thousand miles from Death. From _death_. But. But it is so much worse, somehow, to imagine _waiting _for Death to find him again, to wait and wait and wait in uncertainty). “You need a Dex? I’m your ghost.”  
  
“Your help is appreciated,” Death says, and they sound completely sincere. “Do you have a name?”  
  
He did, once.  
  
“Kāne,” he says, finally. “I think it’s Kāne.”  
  
“Well, Kāne.” Death does not walk toward Iki town; they glide. “What do you know about these trials?”  
  
  
  
  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
  
  
Hau watches the wooden arena, fascinated.  
  
Death stands there, lei shifting in the faint breeze, and does not say a word.  
  
They showed up ten minutes ago, right after Lillie was chosen by her Litten. (Lille’s Litten, try saying that five times fast). They didn’t even act like it was a big deal; they actually tried to skirt around the back of the crowd to get to Hala.  
  
And then, y’know, people actually saw them, and freaked out a little.  
  
And now they’re here.  
  
Grandpa Hala and Professor Kukui stand next to the arena, speaking in hushed, rapid words. Hau’s been straining to hear them, but he can’t quite pick anything out.  
  
“Are we going to die?” Lillie whispers. She’s been cradling her Litten since he chose her, and she doesn’t seem inclined to let go.  
  
“Nah,” Hau says. He’s trying to see if he can get a peek at what’s under Death’s hood. “I think we’d be dead by now, if that’s what they wanted.”  
  
“Oh,” Lillie squeaks.  
  
Hau pats her shoulder without looking. He can’t tear his eyes away from Death.  
  
Like holy crap, dude. Death is in his hometown. And not in the vague, nebulous sense, no; Death is literally standing there, with a Rotom Dex, waiting to see if they can get a starter Pokemon.  
  
They look lonely.  
  
“I’m gonna say hi.”  
  
“Hau, no-”  
  
He’s up the platform steps before she can stop him, opening his arms in a traditional Alolan wave. “Alola! I’m Hau. Hau O’ahu. Welcome to Alola.”  
  
“Hello.” Death is talking to him. Death is talking to him, and they sound _amused_. “I am Death.”  
  
“It’s nice to meet you. Do you know how to do the Alolan wave?”  
  
“I am unaware of the Alolan wave.”  
  
“Cool, so; first, tuck your elbows like this, and put your hands here.”  
  
Death copies him.  
  
This is the coolest day ever.  
  
“Hau.” It’s his Grandpa, climbing up the steps of the platform. He has the same look he got when Hau asked him where babies come from. “Get down, please. Māhū Death is about to participate in the-”  
  
“Just Death, please. I need no honorifics.”  
  
Hala takes a deep breath. “Death, then, is about to participate in the Starter Ceremony.”  
  
Hau scrambles down from the platform. He’s about to watch Death get a Pokemon. He wishes he had a camera. Or six cameras. Ideally, he would be able to remember this from several angles. And replay it on command. And send it to TV stations.  
  
This is amazing.  
  
Hala has a box of Poké Balls. “Stand back,” he warns Death, and turns the box upside down.  
  
Hau knows that, in other regions, people getting their Starters will have their choice of three Poké Balls. Here, though. It’s more important for the Starter to choose the Trainer. So. They do this, instead. And let the Starter decide.  
  
At once, there’s a dozen flashes of red light, releasing twelve Starters across the platform. Some blink, and shake their tiny heads; a few cry out; one rolls over.  
  
Then,  
  
almost as one,  
  
they freeze.  
  
Death doesn’t seemed phased by this. Neither does the Rotom Dex floating by their head. They both just. Seem to be waiting.  
  
And then there’s a peeping.  
  
The smallest, poofiest Rowlet that Hau has ever seen comes hopping out of the clump of confused Starters. With every tiny jump, she makes another happy sound, finally settling herself at the foot of Death’s robes.  
  
She chirps and fluffs her feathers.  
  
Death slowly bends down, carefully picking her up. (She’s so small, she fits perfectly in their palm). She makes little happy noises the whole time. When Death raises her to their face to inspect, she nibbles at the edge of their hood.  
  
“You know,” Death says, and they sound _delighted_, “I think she looks like a Jimmie.”  
  
Jimmie looks ecstatic.


	2. Rules

  1. Catch only the first ghost- or dark-type Pokemon in the area. (Or, any Pokemon which will evolve into a ghost- or dark-type. For areas without a valid catch, or areas with only dupes, you can get a token, and redeem this token on a valid catch later.)

-Dupes clause is ON.  
  
-Oricorio can ONLY be used in it’s Sensu form. You can catch Oricorio in any form, but may only use Sensu in battle.

2\. If any Pokemon faints, they are considered dead, and can no longer be used.


	3. Part Two

Hau takes Lillie and Death to Hau’oli City.

“Remember,” he says, leading them through Route 1, “It’s _Hau_’oli City, so I legally own everything there.” 

Death sounds intrigued. “Really?” 

"No,” Kāne says instantly. “No, he doesn’t, please don’t believe that.” 

This is already shaping up to be an Ordeal. 

Kāne knows that he was human once. He can feel it in the absence of his teeth, the way his hands aren’t there, the lack of ligaments to hold him together. He knows he used to have feet, and skin, and cartilage that ground together when he bent his knees. 

He thinks that. Once, when all those things where real, he had been to Hau’oli. 

He almost smirks as their odd group walks through the streets. People stop, point, whisper. Hau and Death carry on their conversation, (something about. Candy?), but Lillie hunches into herself, curling her body around that bag she always carries. 

Kāne zips down to hover beside her head. “You okay?”

She nods, jerkily. “‘M fine.”

“You don’t look like you are.”

She flinches. “Sorry.” Before Kāne can say anything, she shakes herself and takes a deep breath. “No, it’s. It’s-okay-for-me-to-not-be-okay-and-I-don’t-have-to-apologize.”

Lillie says all of this very quickly. 

“I,” Kāne says. “I mean. Yeah, totally. Good for you for, uh. Not apologizing?”

She nods again. She looks proud. 

Hau cheerfully brings them all to a door behind the Trainer’s School. “This place is really cool; I know that you’re both new Trainers, so they can help a lot with the basics.” He beams. “I was super smart, too, I called ahead. Ms. Emily said we can join her afternoon class and help be a demonstration!”

“A demonstration of what?” Death asks. Jimmie, who has been perched on their head, cheeps happily. 

“Pokemon stuff.”

“Ah,” Death says. They sound pleased. “It is good to learn.”

Kāne and Lillie share twin looks of, _these are our lives now_.

Hau knocks on the door. 

A woman wearing a pair of half-glasses answers. “Hau, lovely to-OH!”

Kāne smirks, just a little. She’s looking at Death like she’s just seen. Well. Death. Which she has. 

This was a bad metaphor. 

"Ah,” she says faintly. “Hmm. Well. I see. It’s. Oh my.”

Hau’s frowning. “Ms. Emily, I told you on the phone-”

“No, yes.” She’s gone very pale. “No, I, you. You did tell me. I was just. It was my understanding that. You had a friend named Death, and not. Ah.”

“No,” Death says. (Ms. Emily’s eyes bug out of her head). “That is correct. We are friends.”

Hau looks overjoyed. Lillie’s pulled her hat down to hide her face. Kāne is trying, very hard, not to crack up. 

“Oh, well then.” Ms. Emily sounds a little shrill. “Well. Yes. Of course.”

Death tilts their head to the side. Jimmie squawks in protest, and Death quickly rights themself. “Will my presence be unwelcome?”

“Ah,” Ms. Emily says. “Well. That is to say. I don’t. Mean to offend, but I. I can’t quite see. How.”

Hau pipes up, “I think it would be in the Alola spirit to let Death participate in the demonstration.”

Ms. Emily blinks several times. “What?”

Hau’s smile is blinding. “I remember learning about the giving and kind spirit of the Alolan people when I was in your class! Wouldn’t letting Death in be an awesome way to show Alola to the kids in your class?”

Lillie stares at Hau like he’s gone insane. 

“Well.” Ms. Emily still sounds faint. “I. I suppose that. Yes, it would be in the spirit of Alola, but.”

“Awesome!” Hau tugs Lillie’s arm, and plows right past Ms. Emily. “Let’s go meet some kids!”

There’s an awkward moment of silence as Ms. Emily seems to take in Kāne, Death, and Jimmie. 

“You won’t hurt them?” she asks. Her voice shakes a little. 

“I do no pretend to understand children,” Death says. (They still haven’t taken off their lei. It’s garish around their neck). “But I can promise that no harm will come to them while I am here.”

Ms. Emily’s jaw sets. “Well,” she says. “Well. That’s good, then.”

She holds the door for them. 

The children stare at Death with wide eyes. 

After a very long moment, one shoots her hand in the air. Without waiting to be called on, she asks, “Are you really Death?”

“Yes.”

The children gasp. 

Ms. Emily takes them all to the nearby shopping district. 

“Now, remember to stick with your buddy! Alana, no, you can’t climb anything. The goal here is to catch a Pokemon, so I’ve given everyone three Poké Balls. Ikaika, you cannot trade partners.”

“But Lillie gets to go with _Death_!” Ikaika whines. “And they’re the coolest person ever!”

“I am not a person,” Death says gently. 

Ikaika takes this in his stride, triumphantly yelling, “Death is the coolest Pokemon ever!”

“I am not a Pokemon.”

Ikaika says, “Oh, okay, you’re a plant?”

“No, I-” Death seems to catch Ms. Emily’s expression, and slowly says, “...I mean. Yes. I am. A plant?”

Ikaika nods. “There’s only three things you can be.”

Another kid pipes up, “Can I be Kāne’s partner?”

“No. He’s Hau’s partner. And there’s no swapping partners.”

“Is this the dem’stration you said was gonna be today?”

Ms. Emily looks very, very tired. “No. That will be this afternoon. Now, if you don’t have a Pokemon of your own already, please come here so I can hand out your loaner Pokemon from the school.”

Lillie hugs her bag tighter to her chest. She can feel Nebby wriggling around inside, but they have to stay in there while they’re around people. She can’t risk her mother finding her. She can’t. And it’s been okay, so far; it’s been three months. Professor Kukui and professor Burnet have been kind enough to let her stay with them, and feed her, and not demand anything in return. But it’s still. 

She’s still so scared, is the thing.

She doesn’t even notice that the crowd of children has dispersed until Death says, “Shall we go?”

“Oh! Yes, I. Yes. Um.” She looks at the ground. “Where do you want to go?”

“I do not know the area - oh! Jimmie, _no_!”

Lillie’s head snaps up just in time to see Jimmie, itty bitty wings a’flapping, take off across the street. 

Death takes after her, robe billowing, lei flapping. “Jimmie, come back! I was told you’re too small to fly well!” 

Lillie has no choice but to run after both of them. 

(People gasp when they run by. Lillie hunches her shoulders and tries to ignore them).

Sure enough, Jimmie is a poor flier. She wobbles in the air, not quite up, not quite down, definitely not straight. She cheeps as she flies, clearly having the time of her life. 

“Wait!” Lillie calls after Death. “Wait, I know what to do!” 

Death stops so abruptly that Lillie almost crashes into them. ‘What?” they ask, urgently. “Quickly, what do I do?”

Lillie shrinks into herself at the sharpness in their voice, suddenly uncertain. She fumbles for the right pocket of her bag, trying not to jostle Nebby too much. “W-well, I just. I, I have some experience with, um with catching runaway Pokemon, I have, um.” She pulls out a half-opened container of Pokemon treats. “See, um, most Pokemon, they, um, they see chasing after them as a game? So, um, so they. They get even, even more far away, because they want to play the game, um. You can’t chase them, you have to follow slowly, and food, um, it helps, usually.And, um. You, you have to check every alley, and on top of stuff, and be sure to look outside your normal, um. Line of sight.”

Death takes treats from her. “Thank you,” they say. “Truly.”

Warmth flares in Lillie’s chest. “You’re welcome.”

They take a slower approach. (Lillie surreptitiously checks her bag every few minutes, making sure the zipper is still in place, and Nebby is still inside. They are. They’re unhappy, but they refuse any Poké Ball she offers them, so. This is the best she’s got). People still stop, and stare, and whisper, but no-one seems to have the nerve to actually approach them. 

Lillie wonders, briefly, if that makes her brave.

They hear a commotion off a side street. Death turns toward the sound.

“That’s Jimmie.”

“How do you know?”

“Jimmie would decide to pick a fight in an alley,” Death says plainly. “She would find it appropriate.”

They’re right. Jimmie is perched on a lidless trashcan, happily chirping. Meanwhile, a trashcan lid bumps into a wall. 

When Jimmie sees Death, (or maybe it’s, ‘When Jimmie sees the treats’,) she flaps right over to them, perching on their shoulder and nibbling their lei. 

Death scratches her head with one delicate finger, feeding her a treat with another. “Troublesome bird,” they say warmly. 

Lillie stares at the trashcan lid. “They’re. They’re not supposed to move, right?”

“I have no idea.”

They stare at the lid some more. 

Lillie releases Leo. “”Um.” She’s seen lots of Trainer’s command their Pokemon, but her track record for getting Pokemon to actually listen to her isn’t great. (She says, “Stay in the bag, Nebby,” and Nebby hears, “Fuck this bag, I’m gonna go try and live in the ocean.”) But Leo chose her, right? So. Won’t he be willing to listen to what she says?

“Um,” she tries again. “Can you get that lid to stop moving?”

Leo darts over, and pounces on the lid. It stops shaking for a second, but then starts shaking. 

Leo snarls. The shaking stops. 

Lillie gasps. “There’s a Pokemon under there!” She fumbles for her bag again. “We could - or, um. You could catch it!”

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, um.” Lillie doesn’t look away from the lid. “You got Poké Balls from Ms. Emily, right? I can pick the lid up for you, but whatever comes out is probably going to try to get away as quickly as possible. You’ll have to be fast, but you can do it! You could even have Jimmie on one side, and Leo on the other, which would force it to go right to you, and then you can throw the ball at it!”

And she realizes how foolish she’s being, how stupid, they’ll shut her down, they’ll tell her they can get it themself, why would she try to help, presume to know more than them, all her excitement leaves her in a cold rush-

“What an excellent idea,” Death says. “Let’s try it."

Lillie beams. 

Hau has literally never been so excited in his life. 

He’s about to face _Death _in a _Pokemon battle_. This, right here, is better than any potential Championship match. Better than any malasada. Better than literally anything in the whole world. Hau’s practically vibrating out of his skin with pure anticipation. 

Sure, there are Kahunas, and Trial Captains, and Ace Trainers. But how many of them have literally fought Death? 

Probably only two!

And now Hau’s doing it!

This is amazing!

Ms. Emily is trying to get her class under control. “Kids, we need you-”

“I can’t see!”

“Ikaika’s pushing me!”

“Children, please-”

“Ka’ena’s too tall-”

“Miss, I’m hungry-”

“The match will not begin until all of you sit down, and are quiet!”

The children sit down. 

They are quiet. 

Hau wants to be like Ms. Emily when he grows up. 

“Now,” Ms. Emily says, frazzled. “Hau and. Death.” She says the word like it feels odd in her mouth. “Will be having a Pokemon battle with the Pokemon they caught today, demonstrating techniques that Trainers can use when battling with new Pokemon. I will be the referee for the match, so Ms. Lillie and Mr. Kāne will be watching all of you to make sure you’re being good.”

Kāne says, “I didn’t agree to this,” and Ms. Emily tells him “You’ve been drafted. Deal with it.” Her tone leaves no room for argument.

She steps into the arena. (It’s a dead patch of grass that Hau got to spray-paint arena lines onto. The lines are wobbly, but he’s pretty sure no-one will notice). “This match will allow each participant to use only one Pokemon. No official wager has been made, so nothing will be exchanged at the end of the match. The battle will continue until one Pokemon is no longer able to battle.”

She raises the green battle flag. 

Hau is literally shaking. 

The flag sweeps through the air. “Begin!”

Hau yells, “Go, Uila!” and tosses her ball at the ground. His newly caught Pichu appears on the battlefield, making cute little Pichu noises. (And Hau is so, so pumped, like. He managed to catch a Pichu, and he’s battling Death, and this is just the coolest day ever.)

“Oh, do we shout when we release them?” Death asks. They sound interested. 

“It’s more fun that way!”

“Hmm.” And to Hau’s glee, when Death throws their ball, they yell, “Djall!”

An Alolan Rattata appears on the battlefield. He sniffs the air, and hisses at Uila. 

“Cool, you caught a Rattata!”

Death inclines their head. “Lillie helped me. She also taught me that Pokemon can be stored in Pokemon Balls when not being used.”

Lillie turns bright red, and tugs her hat over her ears. 

Hau gives her two thumbs-up. “That’s awesome!”

Ms. Emily coughs, loudly. “Please focus on the battle at hand, you two.”

“Oh, right. Uila! Use Charm!”

Uila shakes crouches close to the ground, and shakes her tiny ears. Hau can’t see for certain, but he’s sure she’s blinking her big eyes. 

Djall tilts his head to the side. He takes a step back. 

Death, in a strikingly similar movement, tilts their own head to the side. “And now I say an attack, correct?”

“Yes.” Ms. Emily jumps in before Hau can explain. “Typically, both trainers state their attacks at the same time, or as close to the same time as they can. That way, neither has an unfair advantage, and the Pokemon each react at their own speed.”

“Fascinating! How do I know what to tell him to do?”

Ms. Emily smiles. “His moveset should be in your Pokedex.”

All eyes turn to Kāne. 

The Rotom’s display switches from his default expression (vaguely annoyed) to a graph of information. “An Alolan Rattata of Djall’s level will know attacking moves Bite and Quick Attack, with status moves Tail Whip and Focus Energy.” Kane’s display switches back to his normal expression. “So there you go.”

“And what move should I use first?”

It’s like they hit a switch. Immediately, the audience of children start yelling out possibilities. “Bite gets STAB!” “They both get STAB!” “Use Focus Energy!” “Use Quick Attack!” “Tail Whip means Pichu will be weaker!” “Nuh-uh, she’ll only be weaker to physical attacks-”

Death turns toward Lillie. “What do you think?”

Lillie, somehow, grows even more red. “Um. I. I don’t.” She looks at the ground. “I’m not a very good battler.”

“You’re certainly better than I,” Death says. “And you thought of that strategy earlier for catching Djall.”

Lillie looks like she wants to sink into the ground. She doesn’t say anything. 

Hau pipes up, “I’d use Focus Energy!”

Death turns their attention to him. “Oh?”

“Yeah!” Hau gives them a big, exaggerated wink. “It’s your worst move, it’ll make it way easier for me to win.”

The children giggle. 

Death seems amused. “Well, then. Djall, ah. Bite?”

“Uila, Sweet Kiss when he gets close!”

Djall streaks across the battlefield. Ulia squeaks, and tries to get away, but Djall sinks his giant teeth into her tail. Uila shrieks. Djall lets go, looking stunned, and she seizes the moment to plant one on him. 

Djall shakes his head back and forth, stumbling. He blinks several times. 

“He’s confused!” Kāne calls. “It’s a status effect, it means he’s more likely to hurt himself than hurt her!”

“Well, what do I about that?”

“Uh. Hope he doesn’t?”

Hau smirks, just a little. “Okay, now that they’ve both attacked-”

Ms. Emily cuts in. “Now that they’ve both attacked, you call out orders again. Ready?”

“I suppose? Er. Quick Attack?”

“Use Thundershock!”

Djall manages to shake himself off enough to weakly ram into Ulia. It barely phases her. She responds with a huff and a blast of sparks. 

Djall screeches, tiny body spasming. He shakes when the shocks pass. He looks like he’s barely keeping himself upright. 

(Lillie turns away). 

“Quick Attack is better for long-range attacks,” Hau explains. “The distance gives them time to build up speed; you should have opened with that. Bite is better for close-ranged attacks, since it doesn’t need any build up.”

Death nods, slowly. “I see. Bite!”

“Thundershock again!”

Djall lunges for Ulia, but she’s faster this time, shooting electricity before he can get ahold of her. Djall goes down like a very small sack of bricks. 

Ms. Emily’s red flag shoots into the air. “Djall is unable to battle. Hau is the winner!”

Hau’s victory yell is loud enough to be heard from Iki town. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been looking forward to this one. It went WAY smoother than I expected, so that's awesome!
> 
> Djall didn't actually die in-game, so no worries there. It just felt super OOC to have Death, a newbie Trainer, beat Hau, who's been learning from his grandpa for years. Lillie was way more fun to write for then I expected, too. This is my first SuMo story, so I'm still learning my way around these characters. I hope you guys are enjoying, and thanks for reading!


	4. Section Three

Lillie calls Burnet from the bank of video phones in the Center lobby. 

Burnet answers on the first ring. (Burnet always answers on the first ring.) Her smile is bright. “Hello, frangipani!” 

Something in Lillie’s chest eases. “Hi, Burnet.”

Burnet has, thankfully, stopped trying to get Lillie to call her by her first name. “How are ya?” she asks instead. She sounds really, truly interested. 

Lillie’s hand curls around the phone. “Good.” Her other hand idly rolls two Poké Balls back and forth. “Um, I caught my first Pokemon today?” 

“Lillie!” Burnet squeals, “I’m so _ proud _of you!” 

Lillie tugs her hat over her eyes, grin so wide it hurts. “He’s a Makuhita, I named him Mason, um, he’s _ really _strong, and Death caught a Grimer? Her name is Deborah, and Hau keeps calling her ‘Debbie’, and Hau’s been training his Poppolio, he like, he set up these old soda cans?” She can feel it, the worry creeping up her spine, the fear that Burnet will take what she says and twists it back on her; she’s been talking too long, too much, about something that doesn’t matter, she has to wrap it up, “ Um. He set up these cans, and they’ve been practicing knocking them down for target practice, and, um. Yeah.” 

She fights the urge to apologize. _ It’s okay _ , she reminds herself fiercely. _ Burnet likes you. It’s okay. _

(But it isn’t okay, it’s never okay, she’s too much, too loud, takes up too much space, speaks too long, and Burnet will eventually realize-) 

“I’m so proud of all you!” Burnet’s happy voice gushes through the speaker. “You’re all doing so well, I know you’ll do great on your first Trial! It sounds like you guys are having an amazing time, I’m so glad you’re telling me about it.”

Lillie knows she’s blushing, because all the warm, happy feelings in her chest are escaping through her face. “Thank you,” she mumbles. 

(It is a hard thing, to learn how to not be afraid.) 

“So.” Burnet is seated in a chair in front of her own video phone, and she leans forward as she speaks. “Have you thought any more about my offer?”

Lillie looks around on reflex. She’s seated at the very last video phone on the row, tucked away in a nearly hidden corner of the Center. She’s got a good view of the rest of the lobby, and, besides the Nurse Joy behind the counter, and the Trainer asleep on the couch, there’s no-one here. 

She’s still worried, of course. She has to be, with something as delicate as this. 

Lillie’s already bunched up close to the screen, but she bunches up further. “Yes. Um.” She takes a deep breath. “I’ll tell Nebby to go back to you guys in the morning.”

Immediately, the guilt crashes over her. 

She’s been over this. She knows she’s been over this. Nebby doesn’t deserve to be stuffed in a duffel bag all day while Lillie runs around Alola. And it’s not abandonment, it’s _ not _, not when Nebby is going somewhere safe and nice, somewhere with people who love them. It’s better this way. She isn’t a bad person for doing this. She isn’t getting rid of her friend.

(The guilt still eats at her, acid in her veins, burning under her skin.)

“Hey.” Burnet taps the screen. “Hey, frangipani, it’s gonna be okay.”

Lillie sniffs. She hadn’t even realized the tears starting to creep down her face, and she swipes at them, ashamed. “Yeah,” she mutters. “Yeah, sorry.”

Burnet smiles softly. “No sorries for crying.” 

Someone gasps. 

Lillie whirls, _ NO- _

No. 

No, not her mother. Just the Joy on duty, hand clasped over her mouth, eyes wide in shock, as Death looks back and forth. 

It takes Lillie a second, but they seem oddly _ distracted _. They’re not looking back and forth, they’re tilting their head to one side, then the other, as though they’re trying to hear something without knowing where it’s coming from. 

Lillie frowns. “Um. I, Burnet, I have to go, I. I think there’s something wrong with Death.”

“Oh?” Burnet cranes her head, as though trying to see around the edge of the screen. “Sounds weird when you put it like that.”

Lillie giggles. “I-”

She glances back over. Death is turning in little circles in the center of the lobby. 

“Um. Burnet, I’m sorry, I’m _ really _sorry, I really have to go.”

“Alright, frangipani. Call me if you need anything, I love you!”

Burnet hangs up. 

Something warm and fizzy bursts right in Lillie’s heart. 

She hangs up the phone, and puts her Poké Balls in her jacket pocket. (She threw it on over her sleep shirt, when she came down to phone Burnet.) Slowly, she makes her way over to Death, who is still standing in place, making odd circles. “Death?”

(The Joy on duty looks like she might faint.)

After a moment, Death seems to notice her. “Ah,” the say. They sound distant. (Tonally, not physically.) “Lillie, hello.” 

“Hello.” She eyes them, wary. “Are you, um. Are you doing okay?”

“I.” Death’s head suddenly jerks in one direction. “Ah. There; I have business to attend to.”

Lillie’s eyes snap open. Before she can stop herself, she squeaks, “Are you gonna kill someone?”

She swears that she sees the fabric of their hood shift, just for a second. She swears she sees the thinnest of smiles. “Quite the opposite.”

  
  
  
  
  


Death takes her to a graveyard. 

(Death takes most people to graveyards.)

It’s on the outskirts of Hau’oli, nestled in the foot of Melemele’s extinct volcano. The wrought-iron gate creaks when Death opens it. 

The tombstones almost seem to glow in the soft moonlight. 

It’s odd. Lillie knows that she should be scared right now; every book she’s ever read had people terrified of graveyards. But. 

She glances at Death. It’s hard to tell, obviously, because they’re wearing a cloak, and also an infinite entity, but something about the way they hold themselves has shifted. They seem comfortable, here. 

It occurs to Lillie that this might even be like home for them. 

Death moves among the graves. People have put fake flowers on many of the headstones, but many of them have fallen over. 

Lillie is careful to right them. She lags behind Death, but she can’t stand to walk by without doing something. 

“Excuse me,” she whispers, stepping over a gave to pick up a vase. “Sorry to step on you.”

When she stands, she realizes that Death has left her behind. They are already at the other side of the cemetery. Two shady figures hover in front of their face. 

Lillie tugs her jacket closer around herself. 

Death seems to notice her. They crook a finger, beckoning her to come meet the ghosts of Hau’oli. 

They’re a Misdreavus and a Haunter, and they treat Death like the most interesting thing in the world. They flit about them like Cutiefly buzzing at a flower. 

“Are,” Lillie whispers. “Are they really people?”

Death raises a hand. To Lillie’s surprise, the Misdreavus alights upon it. “Once.” 

(Something about the way the ghost looks at her makes her nervous).

The Misdreavus uses a semi-solid length of “hair” to polish the gems around its neck. The Haunter, meanwhile, takes Death’s other hand between both of theirs, and shakes it rapidly.

“What’s it doing?”

Death sounds charmed. “She’s excited to meet me.”

“Do they talk to you?”

“In a way.” They address the Haunter. “It is good to meet you, too.”

The Haunter nods twice, in quick succession. They release Death’s hand. Then they disappear. 

Lillie gasps. “Where did they go?!” 

“They’re saying goodbye.” Death sounds odd. Lillie doesn’t know what to call they way their voice lilts. “They’ve decided to come with me.”

“Oh.” A thought occurs. “Did. Did they tell you that, all the way from here to the hotel?”

“Yes; they were quite insistent.” Death holds the Misdreavus in one hand, (they’re still cleaning their necklace,) and uses the other to fumble with the pouch that hangs from their rope belt. “They both want to see more before they let go.”

Lillie’s stomach twists uncomfortably. “Let go?”

Death fishes a Poké Ball out of their pouch. “Yes; will you hold this, please? I cannot hold it and get a second one.”

“Oh, yeah!” Lillie hesitates. “Have you thought about maybe, um. Getting like, a Trainer belt?”

Death hands her the Poké Ball. “A what?”

“Well, um.” She watches as they dig through their tiny, tiny pouch, which definitely shouldn’t be able to hold everything that it does. “It’s a belt with magnetic clips on it, so you can have your six Poké Balls ready for use whenever.” She doesn’t tell them about the time she and her brother tried to make one, with duct tape and fridge magnets. 

(And Mother was so mad, she was _ so mad _, but there’s not time for that here, for those memories, and Lillie focuses very hard on the way the grass looks silver in the moonlight, and reminds herself that she isn’t there anymore.)

“Hmmm.” Death finally pulls out a second Poké Ball. “I’ll have to look into it. Thank you.”

(Can you imagine? For _ Death _ to treat _her_ like she’s worth listening to.)

They tap the sphere to Misdreavus’s head. It disappears in a flash of red light, and Lillie and Death watch together as the ball clicks once, twice, three times. 

Death puts the ball in their pouch. “His name is Strigoi. He has been here for a very, very long time.” They wave at the air. “She is Ailani. She has been here for longer.”

Lillie fidgets. After a long moment, she asks, quietly, “Are they okay?”

Death tilts their head to one side. “What do you mean?”

Lillie’s gaze drops to the ground. (_ But it’s okay _ , she reminds herself, _ it’s okay, they aren’t here to be mad at you, _ but she still can’t make herself look at them.) “Just, um. They. I mean.” It’s difficult to explain what she wants to know. “Is it. Hard for them, to be a ghost?” _ Are they happy _ ? She wants to know, _ are they okay _? But the thought of asking such a foolish question makes her throat close up. 

(But she asked a question. And she got a Pokemon. And she’s _ here _, and not there, and she got out. 

“Small progress is still progress, frangipani,” Burnet told her. “If you get mad at yourself for not making only progress, all the time, you won’t have the energy you need to actually help yourself out.”)

Death seems to consider this for a very long moment. “It… can be difficult,” they say, slowly. “They are not human anymore. They are something new. I have heard that it can be hard, to hold on to memories you once had, when your being shifts this drastically.” They roll their Poké Ball between their fingers. “Some embrace it, all the same. They do not want to remember anything.” Lillie _ swears _she sees their hood shift, sees that thin smile again. “They see it as a second life.”

“How come, um.” It’s okay. She can ask. It’s okay. _ It is okay _. “How come they can’t talk, but Kāne can?”

“Ah,” Death says. “That is because Kāne inhabits a facility specifically designed to allow him to speak.”

Lillie turns this over in her mind. “So, do. Do they all _ think _, like he does?”

“Of course.” Death sounds as though they’re surprised she hasn’t realized it. “Why wouldn’t they?”

Lillie flushes. She wants to pull the hood of her jacket up over her face. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Death balances the Poké Ball on one finger. “It is my understanding that most Pokemon do not speak. You must remember; ghosts were not always Pokemon. It would be a very hard thing, to unlearn thinking once you’ve done it your whole life.”

  
  
  


At breakfast, Hau is simultaneously ecstatic and disappointed. 

“So,” he says, pointing an accusing fork at them, “You two went to the cemetery,” the fork swings to judge Death, “_ You _ caught a _ Haunter _,” the fork stabs into his waffles, “And neither of you woke me up?!” He angrily shovels waffle into his face. “‘S rude!”

Lillie’s feeding bacon strips to her Litten. “Sorry, Hau. It was really late, and we didn’t plan it or anything, or we would have definitely invited you!”

“Cemeteries suck,” Kāne says, from their spot in the air by Death’s shoulder. (They’ve both declined breakfast.)

Through a mouthful of syrup and whipped cream, Hau asks, “Hey, ‘r you bur’d there?”

Kane makes a face. ‘Excuse me?”

Hau swallows. “Are you buried there?”

Everything gets very quiet. 

Then Kāne says, deapan, “It’s workplace harassment to ask about my body.”

“What-”

“I’ll be taking this up with HR.”

“We don’t have an HR!”

“Sure we do. Haunter Resources.”

“Death, Kāne won’t tell me where he’s buried!”

Death folds their hands neatly in front of them, and says, gravely, “Their body is their business, Hau.”

“Yeah, _ Hau _.”

Hau turns to a giggling Lillie. “C’mon, help me out! Don’t you want to know where he’s buried?”

Lillie takes a deep breath. She seems to compose herself, except for the little snickers that keep escaping. “Hau, um. “ _ Snicker _ . “I dunno, this sounds like.” _ Snicker snicker _ . “Sounds like something I should _ also _report to Haunter Resources, it’s very inappropriate.”

Hau throws his hands in the air. “I’m surrounded by traitors! Traitors the cause of Kāne’s body! No, wait! No, don’t record me! Kāne! C’mon!”

“Sorry, I need this for HR.”

“_ Kāne _!”

  
  
  


Hau sets up a sign on the Hau’oli beachfront.. He and Death sit behind it. Jimmie is perched on Death’s head. Hau’s own Uila sits in his lap, demanding ear scratches with loud squeaks. 

Tourists pass them. Most scoff. A few look wary. Some people take pictures, but, finally, a woman with cats-eye glasses approaches them. 

“Are you guys serious?”

Hau grins and taps the sign. “Yes ma’am we are! Battle Death for only a thousand Poké” He wishes he had one of those straw carnival hats, one with a cool ribbon on it. 

The woman eyes them suspiciously. “So, like. What. If I lose, you get my soul?”

“I get your soul no matter what,” Death tells her. “The outcome of this battle will not change that in any way.”

“...okay, cool, so nothing to lose.”

Hau nods. “Only your Poké and your dignity!”

The lady chews her lip for a second. “So. Death.”

“Ma’am?”

“What do you need Poké for, anyway?”

“I desire a Trainer belt.”

“Oh. Okay.” She pulls a wad of cash from her wallet. “That’s fair. Sign me up.”

(They do this every day for a month, until the city very politely asks them to stop, please, we've had six people have heart attacks and it only funny twice.)

  
  
  
  
  


Hau takes them all to Verdant Cavern. 

He tosses his Poppolio’s ball in the air as he walks, and catches it each time it falls. (He’s giving Lillie a conniption, but he doesn’t notice). “So, Ilima said they can meet us there, and then I can have my Trial.” He throws the ball higher than he has before. Lillie squeaks.

Hau plucks it out of the air with ease. “And I’m gonna clear it super duper easy, cause Hana knows a Fairy move. And Ulia can play back-up, if I need to.” He frowns, and clips Hana’s Poké Ball to his worn Trainer belt. “I think. She’s not great defensively, but she’s tiny, and Totem Pokeon are pretty big, so. I think that’ll help.” He pokes Lillie. “What’s your strategy?”

Lillie’s got her duffel bag like normal, held tight to her chest. (One of these days, when she’s a little less jumpy, Kāne wants to ask her if she knows what the duffle bag _ strap _is for.) “Um, I guess just use Mason?” Her hat been preemptively pulled low. “He should be good, I guess?”

Her cheeks are bright red. From the heat? Embarrassment? 

Hau grins, and shoots finger guns at her. “Awesome! Great use of a Fighting-type. Use that advantage.”

Lillie grins back, then ducks her head. 

Hau asks, “Death, what’s your strategy?”

“I’ve been told to use Jimmie and Deborah.” Their lei, which somehow hasn’t fallen apart yet, flutters in the breeze. “And that the Totem will likely use Dark-type moves, and so I should avoid using the ghosts.” 

Kāne tried not to make a face at the mention of The Other Ghosts. 

He doesn’t like them.

Hau’s nodding. “Yeah, that’s good stuff, that’s all super true.” He tucks his hands behind his head, smile wide as ever. “I got a good feeling about this, guys. It’s a good day for a Trial, guys.”

It _ looks _like a good day. The sun is shining. Kāne can see the surf in the distance, crashing against the waves. He can hear the wind blowing through the grass, the good kind of grass, the thin, whippy kind, that gets up above your knees and nips the hem of your shorts. 

(He wishes he could feel it, the spray of the ocean, the sun on his face, the wind in his hair. 

He feels nothing. He is aware of everything. It’s like being in a dream, all of the time. 

Sometimes, he wants to ask The Other Ghosts if this is what it’s like for them, too, but the thought of speaking to them makes his circuits fritz.)

An androgynous wonder meets them at the entrance to Verdant Cavern. They have pink hair. They are wearing beige. Kāne doesn’t know why anyone with pink hair would choose to wear beige , but Kāne’s wearing a Pokedex, so who the fuck is he to say anything. 

“Hello,” the wonder says. There’s something shiny woven into their hair. “I’m Ilima Pukui. I am the Trial Captain for Verdant Cavern.” 

They offer their hand to Lillie. To Kāne’s surprise, she actually shakes, looking them in the eye and everything. There’s something a little jerky about her movements, like she’s practiced this, but it’s more than Kāne expected of her. 

“Lillie Smith,” she says. 

Ilima’s smile is like the sun rising. “Lovely to meet you.” And, like they do it every single day, Ilima holds their hand out to Death. “And you?”

Death, too, shakes Ilima’s hand. “I am Death.” 

“Do you have a last name?”

Death sounds like they’re grinning under their hood. “No. I am simply Death.”

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you as well. I like your Trainer belt.” Ilima turns to Hau. “And _ you _I already know.”

Hau beams. “Hi!”

“Hello! Now, then.” Ilima clasps their hands together. “I’m sure that Hau has already explained to you about my Trial, and likely also gone over every strength and weakness my Totems have.”

Lillie says, “Yeah,” and Death says, “Several times,” and Kāne says, “Make him stop.”

Hau gasps, and puts his hand dramatically over his heart. “I’m _ sorry _ I spent my time _ helping _all of you!”

“No, I really appreciate it!” Lillie assures him. 

“I didn’t.”

“Kāne, you’re just jealous I know more than you.”

“I am _ literally _a walking database, no you do not-”

“Gentlemen,” Ilima says. “As much fun as it would be to watch you two bicker, we have something important to be focusing on?”

“Yes, please,” Death says. They don’t sound excited , but. Like. Softly eager? That’s a thing, right? “I have been looking forward to this.”

“Sorry,” Hau and Kane say in unison. 

“So!” Ilima sweeps their arm back, gesturing to the cave entrance behind them. “Verdant Cavern is an ecological marvel within the extinct Ka’ala volcano. It’s full of beautiful greenery, and home to several Pokemon. It’s also the site of my Trial, and before I go on, I want to remind all of you that this Trial site is used by a lot of people, so leave it the way you found it.” Their voice turns sharp. “_ Do not _ take anything. Don’t catch any Pokemon, either; this is a delicate ecosystem.” 

Kāne, Death, Hau, and Lillie all nod.

“Those nods are legally binding,” Ilima tells them. “So don’t fuck with me on this.”

(Kāne’s opinion of Ilima, already pretty high, shoots into the stratosphere.)

“So, my Trail is based on Normal-types. And before Hau can interrupt me and rattle off a stat list for every Totem that’s ever lived here, let me explain my challenge.” Ilima’s smile hooks in one direction. “Normal-types aren’t super-effective against any other type, but they also only have one weakness.”

“And an immunity!”

“Yes, Hau. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!”

“Anyway. Normal-types are known for their coverage versatility. They can learn a lot of different kinds of moves, and properly trained, can become a valued member of any team.” Ilima’s expression blossoms into a full on smirk. “My trial is designed to test your ability to handle the unexpected. Normal-types have a lot of tricks up their sleeves, and so do I. Each of you will have to fight the Totem Pokemon, but there’ll be a second challenge, too, which will be different for each of you.” 

Hau looks excited. Lillie looks nervous. Death continues to have no discernible expression. 

“So!” Ilima says. “Who’s first?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDITING NOTE: This chapter was given a massive face-lift on 11/28/19. 
> 
> First fun fact; Hau’s Poppolio, Hana isn’t named “Hannah”. She’s named “HAH-nah,” which (reportedly) means “work” in Hawaiian. It’s a name Hau actually picked himself, (that his grandfather is super proud of,) and it’s to help remind himself that this isn’t all fun and games.
> 
> Second fun fact; "Frangipani" is a kind of flower! It actually refers to flowers from the plumeria genus, so there's some fun irony for you. 
> 
> This chapter is…..kind of choppy? I’m not quite happy with the pacing. This was originally set to have the trial in the same chapter, but the graveyard scene and the “walking to the trial” scene took way longer than I planned. So! This is what we’ve got. But hey, this is supposed to be a quick, breezy comedy run, so. (Off topic, but “The Other Ghosts” is a killer band name.)   
Also, the hardest part of writing this is quickly becoming, “how do I casually mention Death’s lei in each chapter”, lmao.
> 
> I'm really glad I got the scene with Burnet worked in. I was dying to see her and Burnet interact, I don't think there's anywhere near enough of that in the game. 
> 
> Now; Nebby. 
> 
> The problem with Nebby,is that they're. A problem. They don't want to be in the bag. That's their whole character, and I, frankly, can't think of a good, non-exhausting way to keep that going. I tried keeping it up in chapters four and five, and it VERY quickly felt like an overused running gag. Sure, it's cute in the games, but it only happens, like. Twice per island, in the game. It's a lot more tiring when it's Lillie's constantly worry, so. Nebby's gonna go chill with Burnet and Kukui for a while. (I PROMISE they'll come back, though, so don't panic.)
> 
> Thanks for reading, and happy Thanksgiving!


	5. Increment Four

Hau shoots his hand in the air. “Me!” 

Lillie holds back a laugh. Of course Hau would go first, he’s been bouncing off the walls with excitement - But, to her surprise, Ilima waves him off. 

“Sorry, that was rhetorical. I’ll be picking.” (And nerves start to clog Lillie’s throat.)

“You should pick me,” Hau says. 

“Hush. Alright, let’s see here.” Ilima taps their chin once, twice. “Eenie,” they point at Hau, “Meenie,” Death, “Minie,” Kāne, “Moe.” 

Their finger lands on Lillie. Her stomach drops through her feet. 

“You’re up, kiddo.” Ilima pulls out two walkie-talkies, seemingly oblivious to how Lillie is about to throw up. “You get one, I get one. Contact me if anything goes wrong, the cell phone service in there is shit.”

“Oh, um.” Lillie stares at the ground, focusing very hard on the way the grass moves in the wind. “I. um.” She can feel everyone staring at her, judging her for being such a coward. “I, Hau, really want to go first, I think that-” 

“Sorry!” Ilima sounds way too cheery. “The finger has spoken.”

Lillie wants to argue. 

She wants to to go back to the Center, to bury herself under blankets, to hide somewhere where she’ll never be found. She wants to call Burnet and beg to go back to the little shack on the coast where she and Kukui live, and spend her days with her toes in the sand. 

She doesn’t want to be  _ here _ . 

Already, she knows. She knows she’ll fail. It doesn’t matter that she has a type advantage in Mason. It doesn’t matter that she’s worked to get here. The ache in her bones knows that she’s an idiot who can’t get anything done. (She even had to send Nebby back to Burnet, because they  _ refused  _ to stay hidden.) With each step she took toward this dreaded cave, she had felt worse and worse.

And now they’re making her go first. 

It takes everything in her now to burst into tears. 

“This is my second try,” Hau says suddenly. 

Lillie jerks her head up. He looks more somber than she would have thought he was capable of being. 

Hau’s voice is even, but he won’t meet her eyes. “I was, like. Ten? And I caught a Pikipek. And, Grandpa took me with him on a trip to Hau’oli. And. I, y’know. I wanted to prove that I was ready to take on the Island Challenge. And, um.” His hands play with the straps of his backpack. “I was really proud of myself, because I got here all alone, and. Yeah.”

The wind has stilled, almost like it, too, is listening. 

“Anyway.” Hau awkwardly laughs. “I did my best. Um. But. I didn’t win. And. I don’t, uh. I don’t have a Pikiek anymore.”

Lillie’s heart snaps in two. “Hau-”

Hau waves her off. He still won’t look her in the eye. “Hey, no, c’mon, the point is. The point is! You can come back! And try again! And sometimes you, y’know, you fail really hard, but it’s gonna be okay! Cause you still have time to do shit! And maybe you’ll even meet Death!”

“Hello,” Death says helpfully. 

“Look at that!” Hau gestures to the reaper. Or, the Reaper. “So cool!”

Lillie’s starting to grin in spite of herself. 

Hau points at the cave entrance. “And now you’re gonna go in there, and  _ kick some ass _ !”

“Kick some ass!” Kāne whoops.

“I don’t care for swearing,” Death says. “But you will do well.”

Lillie feels something warm bloom in her chest. It threatens to overwhelm her, rising up to clog her throat.

“Thank you,” she managers to say.

Ilima hands her the walkie talkie. “Alrighty,” they say. “Head on in!”

And Lillie walks into Verdant Cavern with something approaching confidence. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


It turns out that Death owns playing cards. 

“Are these cursed?” Ilima asks as Death hands the cards out. 

“Goodness, no,” Death says. “They would be much drier if they were.”

Hau, simultaneously weirded out and intrigued, asks, “What?”

Death doesn’t elaborate.

As they wait for Lillie, Death teaches them a game called “Beanstalk”. They say it’s from another world, but the game is easy enough to pick up. Hau has four “stalks”, and nine “shoots” before Ilima asks, “Death, do you know how the Trials work?”

“I’ve been informed.” Death puts a card down. “I use my turn to plant a seed. Kāne has told me much about them; they are used to demonstrate the resourcefulness of a Trainer,and they involve battling a Totem Pokemon.”

“Correct.” 

“Obviously,” Kāne mutters.

Ilima puts down two cards. “Hau, I’m plucking your leaves.”

“What!” 

“Give ‘em.”

Hau rolls his eyes, but hands Ilima three of the shoots he was growing. “Death, did Kāne tell you about the Totem Pokemon? Oh, and I plant a seed.”

Death actually sounds a little startled. “Yes, I. Did I not just say he told me?”

“Yeah,  _ Hau _ , of course I already told him.” 

“Kāne, you told Death that I don’t own Hau’oli City, I don’t know whether I can trust you,” Hau says loftily. 

“One day.” Kāne sounds very tired. “One day, I will learn how to give myself hands. And then I will strangle you with them.”

“Love you too!” Hau nudges Death with his knee. Ilima and the two of them have set up shop around a flat rock near the mouth of Verdant Cavern. “It’s your turn, by the way.”

“Thank you.” Death picks up two of the five cars they’ve set down. “I harvest. Hau, is there something in particular I should know about the Totem Pokemon?”

“Yeah!” Hau loves talking about this stuff. (He’s wanted to be a Kahuna since he could walk.) “The Totem Pokemon are chosen by the Tapus! And then they’re trained up by the Trial Captains.”

“I’m planting a seed,” Ilima announces, putting a card down. “And it’s true.”

“So have you met the Tapus?” Kāne asks. 

Ilima winks at him, and taps their nose. “Trade secret.”

Just then, Lillie emerges from Verdant cavern. 

She looks ecstatic. She’s taken her hat off, and nestled within is a clutch of Exeggcute. Her Makuhita waddles along beside her; he has a black eye, and more than a few scratches, but he looks pretty darn proud of himself. Lillie, meanwhile, looks more sure of herself than Hau has ever seen.

It’s a good look.

“Ilima.” Lillie’s grin looks like it’s about to split her face in two. “Um, I did it. I did it, and I, I get the the Trainer stamp now, in my Trainer Passport, and I  _ did it _ !”

“YEAH!” Hau whoops, throwing his cards on the rock. “YOU DID IT!” He shoots several finger guns her way, unable to contain his glee at her success. “I would hug you, but you are holding breakable Pokemon!”

Lillie lights up even more, if such a thing was possible. “I had to find them! They were hidden around the cave, and, okay, there was a rock in the way of the, of the place, where the Totem Pokemon was? And I needed all six of them to open it, so I had to try and find them, and it was  _ so much fun _ !”

“Congratulations.” Death sounds like they’re smiling. “You have proven your worth as a Trainer.”

Lillie, unable to hide behind her hat, ducks her head into herself. “I did it,” she says again, softer, but with no less excitement. 

“You did it!” Kāne agrees.

Ilima stands up, and stretches. “Well, Ms. Smith, I’ll be more than happy to stamp your Passport. But, first; if you could give me the walkie-talkie, Hau’s going next.”

Hau’s skin starts to tingle. “Seriously?”

“Yup. We’re doing reverse alphabetical order.” Ilima takes the walkie-talkie from Lillie, and hands it to Hau, who takes it with shaking hands. “Whenever you’re ready-”

Hau’s been ready since the moment he was born. 

He’s off before Ilima can even finish talking. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Kāne helps Lillie learn Beanstalk. She takes Hau’s hand, and Kāne murmurs tips as she plays with Death and Ilima. (Every few seconds, she’ll glance, again, at the new stamp in Trainer Passport. It’s adorable.)

(The stamp looks wrong to Kāne, for some reason. He can’t put his non-existent finger on it. It seems like it should be different, is all, like something on it has been changed.

He works very hard not to think about that.

He hates thinking about stuff like that.)

After twenty minutes, Hau’s voice crackles over Ilima’s walkie-talkie. “HeyI think I messed up?”

Ilima suddenly turns business mode, grabbing the device. “Hau, what’s going?”

“Oh, sorry, I’m fine and everything!” Hau assures the Captain. “I just, uh. I already beat the Totem? I didn’t see any like, puzzles or anything?”

Ilima rolls their eyes so hard that Kāne feels it. “Yes,” Ilima says, far more patient than Kāne could ever manage. “That’s because you charged into the Trail site before I could set anything up.”

“Oh.”

"Oh, indeed,” Ilima says dryly. 

Death lets out the most polite of chuckles. 

“Listen,” Ilima tells Hau. “Grab your stuff, come on out, and sit still while I set up for Death. Okay?’

“Be out in a flash!” 

Death looks at Kāne. “Well,” they say. “I suppose we should get ready, then.”

Kāne does his best to nod, which involves moving his whole body back and forth. “I suppose we should.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Verdant Cavern sure is  _ verdant _ .

Kāne takes it in for a moment. It’s mostly dusty paths, with patches of ferns. Moss dots the volcanic walls. There’ a second entrance on the other side of the cave, and there are crumbling holes in top of the cavern, lighting the whole thing with a soft, yellow glow. 

Alright, maybe it’s not verdant-verdant, it’s just more verdant than Kāne would, like. Assume. 

(It’s more verdant than it is in his hand, hazy memories of a cave with one fern, lit by the moon, of a Rattata who was curious about, something, he doesn’t know, he never knows enough, memories spliced together by a _shit_ editor,)

Whatever. 

Death drums their fingers against their new Trainer belt, opposite the side where the walkie-talkie is hooked.“So, there is a Totem Pokemon somewhere.”

“Right.”

“And we must find and defeat it.”

“Yup.”

”Well,” Death says. “A little help can’t hurt.” 

They release Jimmie from her ball. The Rowlet starts peeping the second she’s out in the world, and flits her way up to sit on Death;s shoulder. 

“Jimmie,” Death says. They sound like they’re trying very hand to sound serious. “I need you to search for the Totem Pokemon.”

Jimmie nibbles on Death’s hood. 

“No,” Death says. “The Totem Pokemon.”

Jimmie peeps.

“Well, now you’re just being contrary.” 

Kāne, okay, he doesn’t actually clear his throat, he plays a sound recording that sounds like someone clearing their throat, but, he does that, and then he says, “I mean, if I had, to guess, I’d say it was on the other side of the cave?” He gestures with one of his useless not-arms. “There’s like, a giant opening that just screams ‘I’m important’.”

“Ah.” Death is giving Jimmie scritches. “I am unaware of what makes things scream ‘I’m important’.”

“Positioning and low self-esteem.”

“Fascinating.”

Death doesn’t take more than three steps when two kids burst out of nowhere. 

Or, not kids, teens, but they’re both dressed like morons. They have black and white bandannas on their faces, black and white beanies on their heads, and black and white tanks over black and white shorts. 

“Hey!” The one on the right says. She has badly dyed green hair. “We’re here to stop you from getting to the Totem!”

“Yeah!” the one on the left says. He crosses his arms and squats. “And we’re gonna steal your Pokemon, yo!”

“And your cool costume!” the girl adds.

“Yeah!”

“What the fuck,” Kāne says. 

“Oh, wait, we’re gonna, we’re gonna take away your communication method!” the girl says triumphantly. “Get him, B!”

“Yeah!” B releases a Drowzee from some unsee Poké Ball. “Get the talkie!”

The Drowzee takes one look at Death, whimpers, and scampers behind their trainer.

“What the  _ fuck _ ,” Kāne says again, louder. 

“Oh, let them work,” Death says. They sound charmed. 

“You’re a shit judge of character, you know that?”

“Hush.”

“Z-man!” B sounds panicked. “Z-man, hey!” He’s nervously stroking the Drowzee’s wrinkled head. The Pokemon is wrapped around his leg, shaking, with their face buried in his leg. “Hey, buddy, what’s going on?”

Jimmie suddenly starts chirping. To Kāne’s surprise, the Drowzee slowly seems to calm down. 

“Good girl,” Death says proudly. Then, kindly, “Most Pokemon don’t like me.”

(It’s true. When Hau had set up his “FIGHT DEATH” sign, he had had to start charging upfront; people’s Pokemon had a nasty habit of freaking out when Death showed up.)

B’s friend seems to put it together first, her eyes gradually bugging out of her head. “That’s not a costume” she asks, slowly. “Is it?”

“No. It is not.” 

B and his friend stare at Death. 

Kāne smirks. These kids seem like the kind that’ll run screaming for the hills once they realize they just tried to hold up Death itself. (And where’d they come from, anyway?)

Then, 

“That’s so  _ cool _ !” B’s friend squeals. “Oh  _ man _ ; I’m Angie, that’s Baxter, we’re part of Team Skull; Ilima said they’d get us dinner if we battled the third Trainer that came in. Is that Rowlet your starter? Do you go by Reaper? Are you here to like, kill people? Is that Rotom like, bound to you?”

“I’m actually bound to the Rowlet,” Kāne says, dry as bone. “What’s Team Skull, the worst cult ever?”

“Don’t be mean.” Death chides him. “I’m sure it’s a very effective cult.”

“No-”

“We’re not a cult,” Baxter says. He’s picked up his Drowzee, cradling the poor thing. “We’re a gang.” 

(Something bright and hot flashes in the back of Kāne’s head, what  _ is  _ that, why does it feel so  _ fiery _ ,)

“We gotta stick together,” Angie says fiercely. “It’s a good gang, we look out for each-other.”

“Well,” Death says. “That’s good, then.”

“Hey,” Baxter asks. “If our Pokemon are too scared to battle you, can you tell Ilima we did anyway? We’ve been looking forward to free dinner.”

Kāne eyes the bandanna over the kid’s face. He wonders if Baxter’s cheeks are just a little too gaunt underneath. 

To Kāne’s surprise, Death reaches into their spooky pouch and pulls out a wad of cash. “If you can tell me where the Totem is, I will not only lie to Ilima, but I will be more than happy to compensate you.”

Angie eyes Death. “You for real?”

“As real as a thing can be.”

Angie and Baxter exchange a look. Kāne takes the opportunity to whisper to Death, “Hey, I’m serious, the Totem’s gotta be that way-” but Death waves at hand at him like he’s an annoying Zubat. 

Angie says, “Cash first.” Baxter adds, “And we get to take a picture with you.”

“Done.”

Angie snatches the money out of Death’s hand. Kāne almost calls her out for being so fucking rude, but. 

(Hungry, he knows what it is to be hungry, to have your stomach cannibalize itself, to listen to it scream as it eats itself alive and you can’t sleep for the pain of it,)

He doesn’t want to think about that. 

“Yeah,” Angie says. “Totem’s that way.” She jerks her thumb at the opening that Kāne has been damn well talking about, never taking her eyes off the cash in her hand. “We’ll meet you back with Ilima when you’re done, we’ll do pics then.”

“The other guys won’t believe us if it’s just us in the pic,” Baxter adds. 

They scamper off without another word. 

  
  
  
  
  


(Later, much later, when they’re back at the Center, Kāne will ask, “Did you, like. Not believe me or something?”

And Death will say, simply, “For the money to have felt earned, they needed to believe they had either duped me, or earned it. I let them have both.”)

  
  
  
  
  
  


The opening leads to a verdant clearing on the side of the volcano.

Like, actually verdant. It’s nice. Lots of grass.

And there, in the center, is the biggest Alolan Raticate that Kāne has ever seen. 

He’s a beast of a Pokemon. His cheeks bulge. His rat claws are nightmarishly huge. His tail is a thick, awful rope of segmented skin. His black fur is matted and graying. He has to be almost five feet tall.

He’s also asleep. Right in front of what must be his burrow entrance. 

Lazy ass.

Kāne and Death watch him for a moment. 

“Maybe we could just call this defeated?” Kāne suggests. 

“No.” Death gently removes Jimmie from her perch on their shoulder. “No, but. He certainly does seem to be tired.”

Death whistles. 

Kāne had no fucking clue they could do that. 

The Totem twitches his ears. One massive eye, beady only by relativity, snaps open. 

“Hello,” Death says. 

Raticate grunts. 

“We need to battle you.”

Raticate grunts again. 

It occurs to Kāne that the guy’s probably tired. He had to battle Lillie, then Hau, and now Death, all in one day. Shit, Kāne’d be tired too. 

Death lets go of Jimmie. She caws, a preemptive victory screech, and dive bombs the Raticate. 

She hits her mark dead-on, slicing the Raticate’s enormous cheek. The Totem hisses, rolls over, and-

Oh.

“It’s going back to sleep,” Kāne says. 

“I see that.” 

“It’s just going back to sleep.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Jimmie refuses to be deterred. She caws again. With what looks like great effort, she summons several small, green leaves to the air in front of her. With one wing-stroke, she shoots the Razor Leaves at Raticate. 

They don’t do much more than give the Totem a haircut. 

“You know,” Death says. “We may be under-prepared for this.”

“Yeah,” Kāne agrees, faintly, “I think we should be real grateful it’s not attacking.” Tapus above, what if it  _ did _ ? “Maybe we should quit while we’re ahead, come back next time?”

Jimmie, meanwhile, makes as frustrated a noise as a Rowlet can make. She fires off another Razor Leaf attack, this time clipping the Raticate’s ear. 

This, finally, is enough to rouse the beast. Almost faster than Kāne can track, it’s on it’s feet, lunging at Jimmie with it’s giant teeth bared, oh, oh no, oh fuck, there goes Jimmie-

She dodges just in time, only barely missing becoming an afternoon snack. 

Kāne’s gonna have an undead heart attack. “Death, hey, c’mon, you gotta recall her, she can’t take this guy.”

“She has a plan,” Death says calmly. 

“No,” Kāne snaps, panic eating his circuits. “No, see,  _ you’re  _ supposed to have the plan.”

The Raticate watches Jimmie bob and weave, it’s awful, hungry eyes never leaving her round face. Again, it lunges; again, Kāne feels his hardware freeze; again, Jimmie zips away at the last second.

“I am?” Death asks. 

Jimmie’s already starting to pant. She’s too small for this. If the Raticate get it’s teeth on her, it might actually cut her in half.

“Yes!” Kāne snaps, “yes, asshole, you’re the Trainer!”

“Yes,” Death agrees. “But Jimmie had a very good idea.”

“Jimmie can’t fucking talk!” Kāne half shrieks. He can’t take his eyes away from this morbid ballet. Jimmie’s gonna die. Jimmie’s gonna die here, and Death, the fucking bastard, won’t even care. Was this their sick plan all along? Kill the Pokemon they catch?

Jimmie uses Razor Leaf for the third time. The attack lands right in the Raticate’s face, paper cuts on his muzzle, but Jimmie’s dropped, she’s flying too low, the attack too much out of her; Raticate roars, louder than anything Kāne’s ever heard, and oh no, oh fuck, this is it, this is it, Jimmie’s gonna be eaten right in front of his eyes-

The Raticate turns around, and darts into his burrow. 

Kāne stares. 

Jimmie starts to glow. Like, literally glow. Kāne stares more as the world’s smallest Rowlet evolves into the world’s smallest Dartrix, tiredly cheeping all the while.

“What the fuck,” Kāne says. He feels like there’s been some rug pulled out from underneath him. “What the fuck?”

“Jimmie wanted to try a different method of defeat.” Death sounds  _ smug _ , the motherfucker. “He seemed like he would run away easily enough. He was already tired, after all.”

“And you didn’t want to maybe run this plan by me?” Kāne’s mind is reeling. When did they come up with this?! Does Jimmie talk now? Hadn’t they talked about using Deborah, the Grimer, with her superior defenses? “Or anyone?!”

“It was Jimmie’s plan.” Death strides across the clearing to pick up the exhausted Dartrix. “She only just thought of it. We had no time.” They gently preen Jimmie with two fingers.

“We had plenty of time, that thing was asleep!”

“Well.” Death sounds actually sheepish. “Yes, but. Where’s the fun in that?’

Kāne can only stare in disbelief as the dramatic asshole waltzes right past him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Guys, they're Grunts A and B. Guys do you get it. guys. Guys they're A and B. Guys?)
> 
> I really wanted to work in a scene where B releases his Drowzee, and his Drowzee, like, levitates the walkie-talkie off of Death's Trainer Belt, and uses telepathy to bring it to B and Angie? Except that the telepathy is super slow, so everyone is just, like. Standing there. Watching this walkie-talkie very slowly levitate across five feet of space. And Death just, straight faced, "Oh no. You've got us."
> 
> Ah, well. You win some, you adapt some. 
> 
> Top three questions of this update: 
> 
> 1\. How do I make Lillie's friends rallying around her come off as not cheesy? (Answer; you don't. You just get some crackers and go with it.)
> 
> 2\. How do I make up a card game? (Answer; you get really vague about it lmao.)
> 
> 3\. How do I make a cool action scene work in a comedy run? (Answer; make it comedic!)
> 
> So. Uh. I did cut Z-moves, and Z-crystals. I couldn't think of a fun way to work them into the story, so I tossed them. This isn't a story about battles, so why bother? (I of course used them in game, I'm not suicidal.) Instead, in this world, each Trial Captain stamps the Passport, as well as each Kahuna. 
> 
> On to business; I'm here to announce a slight shift in the update schedule. I hoped to have us off of Akala by the end of December, but between school and holiday travel, that is NOT going to happen. You all can expect another update in about two weeks, though!
> 
> With work and school picking up, we're looking at about two updates per month in 2020, hopefully three. (I really, really want to have this run wrapped up by May, so I'll be trying to hit that 3-per-month goal, but I'm also trying this new thing called "being nice to myself"). Super glad I get to share this fun little romp with everyone : )
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, and happy holidays!


	6. Slice Five

Kāne's been taking it easy.

He's been staying with Death in Iki Town, where Hala has let them sleep in the guest room. Well; Hala lets the Pokemon sleep in the guest room, while Kāne floats around and Death reads. Neither of them actually needs sleep. (Kāne could technically be plugged in to charge, but he gets plenty of solar power during the day.)

(After the first few nights, where Kāne kept getting up to float around the house, Death had begun to quietly read out loud.

Kāne had looked at them, startled. "Everything okay?"

Death had looked up from their book. They sounded equally surprised when they said, "I thought you were bored."

Ah.

Of course they did.

"Oh," Kāne said, "uh, yeah," because he feels like it would be cruel to tell them that no, he isn't bored, he just gets a soul crushing, existential crisis every time he looks at Death sitting in the corner of the room.

(It's better during the day. It's always better during the day. But at night, something happens inside his head, and he can't fucking think beyond that fear of the day he will _ be _ nothing, have _ been _nothing, and-)

"I am reading a novel Hala lent me," Death said. "It is called, _ High Noon At Wela Volcano _. " Death spoke like they were trying not to spook Kāne. "I apologize for not asking, but would you like to hear more?"

"Uh," Kāne said. "yeah. Okay, sure."

It was the first nice thing anyone had done for him in a very long time.)

Lillie's been staying with Kukui and Burnet. She comes by most mornings for breakfast, before she, Death, and Hau begin training for the day. The three of them like to talk about Trainer stuff. 

Kāne never really knows how to contribute to that. He’s a database, sure, but there’s another part of himself that’s wonky; is he a database? Or is someone with access to a database? Is that his knowledge, tucked away in his motherboard, or is that the knowledge from the Rotom-dex chassis? 

Who would he be without it? 

Kāne mostly just ribs Hau during breakfast. That’s always a safe subject. 

Death has the largest team of the three of them, so Kāne's been helping them train by creating team exercises. Or, rather; Kāne _ was _helping them train, until Death discovered Poke Beans.

"What are these?" they had asked, when the two of them were healing up at Hau'oli's Pokemon Center.

"They're Poke Beans."

"Beans?"

"Poke Beans? They're Pokemon treats."

Death had light up. They've been spoiling their Pokemon ever since.

"Djall!" They'll say happily, "What a wonderful quick attack!" And the Rattata gets a bean and a chin scratch.

"Deborah! Your Minimize is coming along beautifully, I could barely see you!" And the Grimer gets two beans, because she's too toxic for pets.

And Jimmie gets beans for _ everything _. After she almost fucking died, Kāne's talked Death into setting up a stamina routine for her, so that she won't get tired next time she has to fly for an extended period. And for each lap she does, she gets a bean.

And then it becomes, "You did extra laps today!" Or, "Everyone did such a good job training, you all get a Bean with dinner." Or, "Really, Kāne, the thunderstorm is scaring them, I'm sure they could use some comfort food."

It would be infuriating if it wasn't so endearing, watching the grim reaper coo over their Pokemon.

(Death never coos over Strigoi and Alhani. They both get to eat from real plates at Hala's real table, and if they do get Beans, it's only because they ask for them. And at night, instead of sleeping in Death's room, they are allowed to roam. The two of them like to use this freedom to leave the house and float off into the night, but they always return before morning.

They give Kāne the creeps.)

Hau spends his time training or relaxing. Hanna has evolved into a Brionne by now, and Hau likes to take her to the beach to let her stretch her muscles. He's even set up an obstacle course in the backyard for U'ila, so she can practice her dodging. And sometimes, he'll blow off the whole thing to go buy malasada and see a movie.

(Kāne knows this because Hau invited him.

This is the second nice thing someone has done for him in a very long time.)

Lillie trains with Kukui. She's got a Staryu now, named Sammie, and her Litten has evolved. Leo the Torracat is quickly becoming Kāne's least favorite Pokemon. Leo seems to think Kāne is some kind of toy, and likes to try to catch him out of the air. Because Leo is an asshole.

In a nice twist, Lillie's Trial win seems to have helped her confidence. She still seems like the kind of person who would apologize to her own murderer, but when she comes over, she makes actual _ jokes _now, so it's much nicer to talk to her.

Weirdly, she didn't answer Hau's texts this morning.

He left a few hours ago to check on her. Kāne's been helping Death train in the backyard, (while trying to avoid direct interaction with the ghosts,) and it seemed to be going well. They only stop when the rain starts, Death and Kāne herding the gaggle of Pokemon indoors. 

It's a surprise when Death asked to speak with him privately.

Kāne froze. "Are you going to kill me?"

"What? No!" Something about the shock makes it the most human Death has ever sounded. "Goodness gracious. no."

"Oh." And he can breathe again, suddenly, metaphorically, because his lungs don't exist anymore. "Okay, yeah. No problem."

(Death leaves Alahani in charge. Kāne avoids her gaze.)

It's rainy without being cloudy, and Death meets him on Hala's enclosed porch. The rain drums steadily against the windows, and they can see the sunset through their watery view. The oddly spare clouds are stained pink , and red streaks across the sky.

"So," Kāne says. "I feel like you didn't take me out here just to see the sunset."

"No," Death agrees. They're sitting primly on Hala's stained porch couch, hands folded atop one knee. "I want to talk to what happens next."

"Like....after I die?"

"Kāne, really, do you think I'm limited to my job?" Death sounds almost indignant.

"Well, it's, like. Your name. So. I mean."

Death huffs. "I'm on _ vacation _."

Kāne should probably stop pressing the buttons of cosmic entities, but, "Does your name change when you go on vacation?"

"Kāne, please."

"Sorry."

(He's never able to put it together, he really isn't, the way that Death, the being, is someone who sneaks Deborah scraps of broken glass, and reads to Kāne at night, and death, the thing, is something that shakes him to his very core, something he works to avoid thinking about whenever he can.

Cognitive dissonance, or whatever.)

"The Kahuna battle is coming up," Death says. "And after that, I hope to continue on to Akala. Djall has asked to be left here. He does not like the ocean. I.."

Kāne isn't really sure where they're going with this.

Death hesitates, then continues. "I know that you did not exactly..._ volunteer _ for this position. And while I am incredibly grateful for all your help, I no longer believe I require it."

Before Kāne say anything, they hold up a hand. "Please, let me finish; while I." They sound like they're choosing their words very carefully. "While I do not think I require your help any longer. I would nonetheless deeply enjoy your company, if you would like to come with me once I leave Melemele."

"Oh," Kāne says.

"You do not have to answer right away-"

"No, I." _ I assumed I would be here till you killed me _.

Except Death hasn't killed him. They've argued with him, and infuriated him, and adopted ghosts. They have made jokes, and studied type matchups, and given Kāne a reason to leave Route 1. But they haven't killed him.

And Kāne realizes, they are _ friends _.

Does that mean, then, that he is going to have to watch his friend kill him?

“How is it gonna work?” Kāne blurts. “When, it. When I.” He can’t get his speakers to work right. “When I pass,” he finally says. 

Death is quiet for a very long moment. 

“Do you. Are the one that that, like.” Kāne feels vaguely embarrassed to be asking. “Do you. I mean.”

“Do I use a scythe to rend souls from flesh?” Death sounds amused. “No.”

“Cool, cool, cool.” If Kāne had fingers, he’d be twiddling them. “So. Uh.”

“It’s. It _ happens _ . It is something that happens, and I am, that, but I am also _ me _.” Death sounds almost frustrated. “I do not control it. I cannot stop it. And I am aware of it happening, all of the time, and.”

Death seems to take a deep breath. Kāne has about a half second to process “I am aware of it happening, all of the time” before Death continues, “It just happens.”

_ It just happens _. 

It’s….almost comforting. Still terrifying, of course, but at least Death isn’t going to murder him. (Except for how they are, kind of, if Kāne understands them right, but that’s a whole different can of Pokemon worms.)

“If you could stop it,” Kāne asks, before he can talk himself out of it, “would you?”

Death is silent. “I don’t know,” they finally say, and it is the first time that they have sounded small. 

(Kāne doesn’t know if he is the man or the chassis. 

Death has the same problem.)

“Okay.”

“Sorry?”

“Okay.” Kāne doesn’t quite know how to phrase what he’s feeling, the strange, soft sensation where his chest should be, “Okay. I’m going with you.”

They watch the rain.

"Thank you," Death says, after a moment.

"Yeah, man. No problem."

  
  
  
  


Hau's been knocking for five minutes.

Like, literally, actually, honestly five minutes. He's been timing it with his watch. Every couple of minutes, he'll yell, "LILLIE!" Next, "KUKUI?" Then, "BURNET?" And finally, "ANYONE?"

Then he'll start it again. Repetition is the key to success.

He stands there for a solid fifteen minutes, rain soaking him through, knuckles wearing down, throat getting sore, before he hears a shout.

Hau turns; Kukui is walking up across the sand. He's wearing a rain jacket, which seems like a smart idea. "Why are you trying to break my door down?" he calls.

"I'm trying to check on Lillie!" Hau yells back.

Kukui's close enough now that Hau can see his grin. "So you decide to torture the information out of my door?"

Hau grins back. "He seems like he would know something." He moves out of the way so Kukui can unlock the door.

Kukui shakes his head. "And yet, they never broke down." He pats the wooden frame. "Good man. C'mon in, cousin, let's get you dried off."

Hau's always been fascinated by Kukui and Burnet's place; it looks like a lab was attacked by a gift shop. There are white walls, white tiles, and white counter-tops, strewn with shells, driftwood, and beach glass. There's a giant aquarium tank in the middle of it all, populated by whatever (herbivorous) local Pokemon need care.

Their Rockruff, Hibiscus, jumps on Hau as soon as he steps in the door. Hau is more than happy to indulge her, squatting down to give her chin scratches and tell her what a good girl she is while she licks his face.

Then he remembers; "Oh, so where's Lillie?"

Kukui's hung up his rain jacket, and changed into a dry shirt. "She's out on the boat with Burnet. They're collecting water samples." He throws Hau a towel. (Any respectable tropical home keeps towels by their door during the rainy season.)

"Oh, wow!" Hau wraps the towel around his shoulders. He would get up and dry off properly, but Hibiscus has settled herself in his lap, so he legally can't move. "For anything in particular?"

"Nah, just data collection."

Hau nods sagely. "I see, I see." He scratches behind Hibiscus's ear; her tail starts to thump the ground.

“So,” Kukui asks. “Are you nervous about the Kahuna battle?”

"I guess," Hau says. He gets that spot right behind Hibiscus' ear; her tongue lolls from her mouth. "But I'm really good at battling, so not really.”

"Oh," Kukui says. "Alrighty, then. That's cool, cousin." His tone is the lukewarm temperature of someone who thinks you're lying, but doesn't want to offend.

Something in Hau’s mouth tastes bitter. 

This is why he doesn't tell people.

He isn't trying to brag. He doesn't like to talk about it, because people act weird, but he's _ good _. He’s been training to be a Kahuna since he was born. He taught himself how to read using back-issues of Trainer magazines. He knows that Lillie and Death like to train against wild Pokemon, but Hau prefers real Trainers, and he can count the number of times he's lost on one hand.

He's not worried because he doesn't need to be.

He tries to make a joke out of it, to move his tongue to lose the acrid taste. "I mean, I already beat Death. I think I'll be fine."

Kukui laughs. "I've seen Death battle, kid. We both know beating them isn't that impressive.”

The conversation shifts from there into something more light-hearted. 

Hau's kind of glad Lillie isn't home.

He always feels like he has to walk on eggshells when he talks to her, because one wrong move makes her flinch and shut down. And that's fine, obviously, it's _ fine _, she's his friend, and she's clearly been through something, (Lillie told Hau that Kukui and Burnet were her aunt and uncle, but he's not stupid,) it's just.

It's a lot of work, sometimes, to get through a conversation with her.

But. She's still his friend. So he came to check on her.

(Once, when Hau was about ten, Hala had to pick him up from school for fighting. Not Pokemon fighting, either, but for shoving a weird kid in a locker.

Hala had walked him back home in silence. Hau had been in tears the entire time, waiting for Hala to do something, anything, to lay down whatever punishment he had coming to him. He had screamed at his grandfather as they walked, begging with him, pleading with him, asking what was going to happen to him.

Hala had walked him home, and sat him down on their old porch swing. Hau, by then, had the hiccups and a headache, and had simply sat there, whimpering, wondering, waiting for punishment.

Finally, Hala had said, "Did that boy do anything to you?"

Shame burned red-hot in Hau's gut. "No, sir," he muttered. He wanted, very badly, to be shot into the sky, and never see land again.

"Did he do anything to anyone else?"

Hau sunk lower into himself. "No, sir."

"Hmmm." Hala started straight ahead as he talked. He was the only person Hau ever knew who could talk so softly, but sound so loud. "So. Did he deserve what happened to him?"

"He's _ weird _!" Hau had burst out, his self-preservation instinct scrambling to find any kind of defense.

"Does that mean," Hala had asked, still quiet, "that he is undeserving of your kindness?"

Hau's fists had balled up, nails digging into his palms, guilt sinking its teeth into every fiber of his being. "You don't get it, he doesn't act normal, it's _ hard _to be kind-"

Hala's voice was ice. "_ Then do it until it becomes easy.") _

Kukui politely kicks him out once the rain stops. Hau whistles on the way home, calling back to the Pikipek hiding in the trees.

  
  
  
  


Lillie's helping prepare plant slides when Burnet asks her, "What are you planning to do with Nebby?"

(Nebby's been hovering around the corner, playing with a block set. They perk up at the sound of their name.)

Lillie chews her lip. She carefully puts the slide in the box next to her before asking, "Um. Why do you ask?"

Burnet's watching something through her microscope. (She's been examining the water samples they got earlier.) She doesn't look up when she speaks. "Well, we still haven't found a ball that will hold them, and I doubt you want to babysit that duffel bag again." Burnet adjusts a knob, and grins down at the microscope. "Selfishly, frangipani, I'm trying to figure out if I'll have more time to study Nebby, or if you'll be leaving with my most interesting subject."

Lillie fiddles with a blank slide. Selfishly, Burnet says.

Lillie already knows what she wants to do. She's known since she sent Nebby back here; she can't take Nebby to Akala. She has no way to store them safely, and they hate being stuck in the duffel bag. The alternative is to let Nebby wander free, and that's just plain stupid.

(She has nightmares, sometimes, about that night when she found Nebby on Aether Paradise, when she found the pitiful, crying creature, and her mother said, "Lillian, leave," but it was too late, she had looked, and seen-)

"Lillie?"

Lillie is snapped back to reality. "Oh, sorry-"

"Hey." Burnet's voice is gentle. she places a hand gingerly on Lillie's shoulder. "Hey, you're okay."

There's a coo from Lillie's other side. Nebby brushes her face with one gaseous appendage. (It feels like being stroked by a cotton ball.)

The knot in Lillie's stomach gets worse. She reaches out a hand to pet Nebby, stroking over the barely-physically-tangible body. "I'm okay," she says, to Nebby and Burnet both. "I just."

Nebby looks at her with those big, wide eyes, and coos again.

Lillie has to look away.

“I have to leave them here,” she says quietly. 

The words feel very final. 

Nebby feels cool under her hand. “I can’t leave them in the bag,” she mumbles. She’s wrestled with this long enough, arguing herself in circles as she tries to fall asleep, but it feels different to say it out loud. “It’s cruel. But, um. But I can’t just, I can’t let them wander around, either, since. Since I’m sure that Mother is looking for both of us,” and she won’t let her voice hitch, she can say this, “and it’ll be safer if I’m by myself and she doesn’t find Nebby with me.”

(“Lillian, get out of here.” Her eyes are what Lillie remembers most. They were cold and fierce at once, a glimpse into a blizzard. “_ Now _.”

But Nebby had been crying-)

“And um, we haven’t, um.” She can do this. She’s been doing better. She takes a deep breath, and continues. “We haven’t seen Mother, but.”

Oh. 

This part, _ But she’s definitely still looking for us _, this part refuses to leave the spot where it’s lodged in her throat. 

Burnet reaches out a hand. Gently, she squeezes Lillie’s shoulder. “It’s okay.”

Lillie nods rapidly. “Um.” 

(She’s beaten a Trial. 

That’s been her source of strength, through all of this; she’s beaten a Trial. _ She _ did, all by herself. And it’s so small, it’s so stupid, but no, _ no _ , she _ did that _. She never thought she could, but she did, and she holds onto that tiny spark for dear life.)

Nebby wriggles under her hand, begging for more attention. Lillie still can’t look at them.

“I feel really bad,” she manages to say. “Um. Like. Nebby got me out of there, Nebby saved both of us, and I really, um, I really feel like I owe them, like, I owe them something, and I don’t want to just abandon them, they don’t deserve that.” Before Burnet can correct her, Lillie adds, “And I know, I know it’s not really abandonment, because they’re with you, and Kukui, and they like you and Kukui, but how come it _ feels _like I’m abandoning them?!”

Her throat feels tight and her hands are shaking, but she’s said it, she’s done it, the words are out in the air, and she wants, desperately, to know why it feels like she’s been stripped raw every time she asks someone a question. 

(Nebby nudges against her hand again. Lillie resumes petting them. The knot in her stomach tightens further.)

“Well.” Burnet has that tone in her voice that means she’s thinking. “If I had to guess, you’re worried that you’re abandoning Nebby because you feel like whatever you ‘owe’ them hasn’t been fulfilled.”

Lillie latches onto the words. Burnet’s good at stuff like this, at looking at the tangled mess of Lillie’s emotions and explaining what tapestry it resembles. “You think so?”

“I _ think _so.” Burnet puts careful emphasis on the word. “I’m not in your head, I can’t see exactly what your feelings are, but if I had to guess, yeah, that’s what I’d say.”

Lillie mentally turns the idea over. It sounds right. She’s been trying to be more introspective; she’s not very good at it. Obviously she’s great at feeling lots of complex emotions, but she’s been trying to understand how to name them beyond ‘these feel bad’. 

It’s been a process. 

“But.” It’s been a process, and it is a process, and every time she tries to understand herself, it feels like all she finds are deep wells of ‘I’m sad’. It’s so much easier to have Burnet explain things. “What do I feel like I owe them?”

Burnet quirks an eyebrow. “Again, sweetie, I’m not in your head.”

Dang it. 

“Okay.” Lillie takes a deep breath, and lets it out. “Okay. Um. So. To figure out why I feel like I’m abandoning Nebby, I need to find out what I feel like I owe them, and then give that to them?”

Burnet shrugs. “It’s my best guess? But I study biology, not psychology.”

Lillie chews her lip. 

She looks at Nebby. 

They look right back at her, eyes just as unfathomably black as the first time Lillie saw them. 

(Dr. Faba had done something, had pressed some switch, some button, and Nebby had screamed, and Lillie had shouted, and then,)

“I want them to be _ safe _.” 

The knot in her stomach loosens. 

Lillie pivots to face Burnet, ecstatic at her discovery, “I want them to be safe! And the safest place they could be is with you and Kukui, it’s not with me, so leaving them here means I’m fulfilling what I owe them!”

It’s a relief. It’s a huge, monumental relief, to have all of that sorted out in her head, because this has been eating at her even more than the upcoming Kahuna battle, and now she gets it, and everything will be okay, because Nebby can stay here, with the professors, and Lillie isn’t a bad person for leaving them here.

Everything is going to be okay. 

_ Everything is going to be okay _.

  
  
  
  


Aether Paradise 

“Still nothing, ma’am.”

She drums her fingers on her desk. “Run it again.”

He hesitates. “Lu-”

“No.” Her voice is soft. This is when she is at her most dangerous. “No, I don’t think you’ve earned enough favor to say my name.”

He gulps. 

The room is silent. 

She stands. “Run it again,” she says quietly. “And keep running it until we _ fucking _find them.” 

She doesn’t need to add ‘or else’.

He knows what else. 

He’ll run it again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Yeah. That took five months. 
> 
> But it's done! Yay!
> 
> To summarize a laundry list of bullshit, I've had to restructure the story, which means y'all get this slower chapter. This will still be a relative short project, (I'm clocking it at about 30 chapters,) but I've got some more wiggle room for real character development now, so hey! 
> 
> Also, I made a tumblr! (https://wwarborday.tumblr.com/) Come check me out if you want to see more of my stuff.
> 
> (PS: Burnet's a biologist in this, instead of studying Ultra Space. More on that later.)


	7. Scrap Six

The Kahuna battle takes place at the Ruins of Conflict.

("Why's it called that?" Kāne asked over breakfast. “Ruins of Conflict?”

"Ah," Hala said. "There was once a great temple there. Then there was a conflict; now we have ruins."

Kāne can't tell if he's messing with him or not.)

The Ruins are to the north of Iki town, across the world’s most rickety bridge, and ultimately tucked away in a cave ringed by palm trees. A great stone door bars the entrance. Hala has a massive key on a bigger ring to unlock it.

Hau keeps shifting back and forth from foot to foot. His grin is almost manic. “I’ve been trying to get gramps to take me here forever!”

“This place is sacred,” Hala reminds him. “I wasn’t about to let you use it frivolously.”

“Just looking at it isn’t frivolous!”

Hala raises his enormous eyebrows. "Is 'just looking at it' not the definition of frivolous?"

Hau shuts up.

Hala finally gets the door open. “Kāne,” he says, “do you mind going first?’

Kāne is instantly suspicious. “Why?”

“It’s dark. You have a flashlight.”

“Y’know,” Kāne mutters, floating past him, “I’m not a damn Kalos Army Knife.”

Inside, Kāne can feel his internal thermometer drop. The floors are not rough stone, but beautifully carved rock. Massive tapa banners, printed with battle imagery, hang from the walls. As Kāne’s eyes sweep over the room, he realizes there are battlefield lines inlaid in the ground. The field is framed with six stone braziers; one at each corner, and two on either side of the center.

Hala releases a huge, hulking Emboar. "Tapu Koko!" he booms. "This is the first Kahuna battle for these three challengers! We dedicate this battle to you, and ask that you bestow upon them your blessing!"

The Emboar shoots two jets of flame.

The braziers light.

Kāne's metaphorical jaw drops.

There, in the center of the arena, floats a large, yellow and black _thing_. A sweeping orange plume falls down its back. It turns its head to Kāne.

"Tapu Koko?!" he croaks.

It vanishes.

"Kāne? Did you see something?"

Kāne looks at Hala incredulously. "Did you _not_?”

"Did you see the Tapu?" Hau practically squeals.

"Were was he?" Lilie asks.

"Oh," Death says mildly, "were we not supposed to see him?"

Hala's busy mustache turns down. "Could you see him too, then? He was really here?"

"Hey, what do you mean 'he was really here', I just told you I saw him-"

Death inclines their head. "I see many things that others do not. It is often for the best that I do not share them."

"Yeah, okay," Kāne says, "but you're like, Death. I'm just some dude, how come I could see the Tapu?"

"Maybe cause you're dead?" Hau offers.

"Gee, thanks."

(Great, awesome, wonderful, great, Kāne loves these little reminders that he’s dead, he’s a Pokemon, he’s neither alive nor himself-)

Hala clears his throat. "No matter the reason. The Tapu has seen fit to bless our battle, and I believe we should honor him by beginning!"

Hau whoops.

"Hau, this is a place of sacred business."

"Oh, sorry. I thought it was the place where I was gonna _kick your butt_."

“Hau.”

“Sorry.”

Hala gestures to the arena. “I will be fighting each of you one-on-one, one Pokemon per Trainer. No substitutions, no swaps. Items take the place of a move. Those of you who aren’t battling can wait outside. Does anyone have questions?”

“Who’s going first?” Hau asks.

“Death.”

“What-”

“Oldest to youngest, Hau,” Hala says, straight-faced.

In retrospect, Kāne’s pretty sure he was fucking with him about those Ruins.

Hala sends out a Crabrawler.

Death sends out Strigoi.

The two challengers stare each other down for a long moment.

Hala's mustache twitches. "So. You picked a flying Ghost-type."

Death sounds like they're trying not to laugh. "I was told Fighting moves cannot hit ghosts."

"And any Dark moves I have won't land—"

"Because Strigoi can simply fly out of the way," Death finishes.

They stare at the battlefield.

"Does your Misdreavus have a psychic move?"

"He does, yes."

"Of course."

"Of course," Death agrees.

They resume their staring.

Finally, Hala sighs. "By default, you win."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"Well. It should be."

Lillie's up next.

She's only shaking a little. She's put up her hair today, in a neat braid under her trademark sun hat. Burnet had done it up for her this morning, while Kukui made breakfast.

"You can do this, Lillie," Burnet had assured her.

Now, looking at Sammie on the battlefield, Lillie almost believes her.

Lillie surveys her opponent carefully. Hala's sent out a Makuhita. It's odd to see one that isn't Mason; Hala's Makuhita, Clementine, is burlier, and she has more of an orange tint instead of Mason's yellow-brown.

Lillie's eyes narrow. Mason’s a hard-hitter, but he’s slow. He goes over like a sack of bricks, even to low-power attacks. One of her biggest hurdles in training him was finding ways to defensively use his offensive power. Clemtine looked bigger, but bigger Pokemon almost always meant slower Pokemon.

And if Clementine was slow...

"So!" Hala's voice echoes slightly in the chamber. "Are you ready to begin?"

Lillie takes a deep breath. Breathe in, breathe out.

_You can do this._

She clenches her fists at her sides. "I'm ready!"

"Clementine, Feint Attack!"

"Sammie, Psywave!"

Clementine starts charging, but, true to form, she's slow, each step echoing with its weight. As she runs, dark energy starts to clump at her fists.

Lillie can only see Sammie's back, but Sammie's already glowing violet, and they shoot off a weak beam of energy, a purple haze in the air that swims toward Clementine-

Clementine goes down.

Lillie blinks.

"Um," she says. "Is. Is that it?"

That can't be it, can it?

Was that _it_?

Hala sighs so loudly that she hears him across the battlefield. "I was afraid of that." He recalls Clementine in a red flash. “Congratulations, Trainer, on earning your Melemele stamp. I’ll put in your passport once Hau is done with his battle.”

“Wait.” Lillie can’t wrap her head around this. She feels like something’s fizzing under skin, like when you drop a mint into soda. “Um. What were you afraid of?”

Hala waves a hand. “Staryuu are powerful Psychic-types. Makuhita have low defensive capabilities. One decent Psychic attack and they’re down.”

"Wait, so.” Lillie hasn’t quite processed this yet. “I won?”

Hala nods. “You won.”

This feels like some kind of trick. “I. Are you sure?”

“Your Pokemon knocked out mine. That’s a win.”

It.

This.

Something feels wrong, here. This was way too easy.

“Are you sure?” Lillie asks again.

Hala sighs. “_Yes_. Can you please send my grandson in on your way out?”

“...sure,” Lillie says faintly.

Huh.

Okay, then.

Hau feels a quiet sense of awe when he enters the Tapu’s chamber.

It’s nothing like he expected. It’s too plain, for one thing. There’s no marble columns or grand tapestries.

And, y’know. No Tapu.

The only lighting in the chamber is stone braziers on either side of the arena. They cast harsh shadows over Hala’s already stern face.

“Hau,” he says. His arms are crossed.

Hau nods. “Hala.”

One side of Hala’s mustache twitches in a grin. First blood to Hau.

“Do you understand the rules?” his grandfather asks simply.

“Yes, sir.” Hau squeezes Hanna’s Poke Ball. “I’m ready.”

His whole life has been leading to this, and it’s just a cave with some fire in it. He doesn’t know if he should laugh, or. Well.

He’s gonna laugh, obviously. He’ll just have to save it till the end of the battle.

Hala releases a Mankey. Hau releases Hanna.

They don’t need to wait.

“Karate Chop!”

“Baby-Doll Eyes!”

Mankey leaps at Hanna. Hau doesn’t know whether Baby-Doll eyes lands; he sees the Karate Chop hit, and he sees Mankey back on the other side of the arena, but he barely sees him move.

Hau narrows his eyes. “Disarming Voice!”

“Karate Chop!”

Mankey darts forward again. Hanna tries to follow him, singing Fairy magic, but he moves too fast; she only clips him. She yelps when he lands a second hit to her side.

Hau chews his lip. Mankey is fast. Hanna has a fish tail. She isn’t exactly agile on land, and Disarming Voice moves through the air like syrup in water. If he can’t even land a hit, he’s dead in the water. Maybe if he can create a slip trap? Or hit the lights with Water Gun, so the Mankey can’t see? But, no, then Hanna couldn’t see either. Or what if—

Hau shifts his stance. He’s overthinking. (Contrary to popular belief, he does that sometimes.) Pokemon battles aren’t about super-effective moves or fancy strategies. They’re really simple when you get right down to it; it’s about keeping your opponent from hitting you, while you hit them.

Hau knows how to do that.

Hala’s apparently decided Hau has had enough of a break. “Fury Swipes!”

“Water Gun!”

Mankey leaps at Hanna, but Hau’s been training her with water bottles since he got her. She shoots out water right when he’s in the air, and he goes sprawling.

(Hau sees Hala’s mustache twitch upward.)

Mankey stands up and shakes himself off. He’s breathing hard.

Hau doesn’t grin yet, but it’s coming.

“Fury Swipes!”

“Water Gun!”

Mankey doesn’t jump this time, but Water Gun hits it square all the same.

(And this is how Hau beats his grandfather in their official match; without fanfare or fuss or fanatics.

He lies awake that night, staring at the ceiling, and wonders why he feels so empty.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a whole lot to say here! Battle was way easier than I thought it would be, and I figured just Death kicking Hala's ass would be incredibly boring, so I spaced it out a little.
> 
> Stay tuned for next time, where we wrap up Melemele with a very special guest.


	8. Piece Seven

The humans on Earth call them “War”. 

The humans on Earth think too small. 

They are _ Friction _ . They are _ Struggle _. They are waking up and arguing with yourself over whether to sleep in. They are squabbles that begin soft and turn bloody. They are the internet trying to connect. They are the murder and the guilt afterward. They are plants stretching for the sun and teeth rending flesh to sate hunger. They are the heart fighting to survive and the doctor trying to save it. They are fighting for something, anything, everything.

They are _ Conflict _.

And they have come for a visit. 

They wait on the beach at Ten Carat Hill. They have given no notice. They have sent no message. Death will know they’re there all the same. 

Conflict watches the surf while they wait, amused. They have always been a fan of the tides, who beat ceaselessly at the coast, and of the coast, who stubbornly remains. (The water thinks it wins, small victories in rivers and coasts, but mountains always rise and seas always fall. Yin and yang, the two of them.)

“Hello.”

Conflict turns and bares their teeth, eyes cold. (This is as close as they get to a true grin.) “Death! How are you? Enjoying your vacation?”

(Conflict can feel the tide within themself. They can feel someone trying to stand up. A teenager argues with his father. A woman stabs her combatant. Two elves bicker over their partner. Someone gets hurt. Someone does not. The water pulls at the earth. The earth tears at itself. Gravity tries to keep it all together. Everything pings in the back on Conflict’s skull, constant little pinpricks in their mind like sunspots in your eyes.)

Death inclines their head. They have a Pokemon with them, a Dartrix barely the size of a dinner plate. (Two beasts snarl, trying to gain control of the pack.) “It’s going well.” They sound cautious.

Conflict looks them up and down. (A man struggles for control of a starship.) It is custom for the four of them to take the form the locals are most comfortable with. “I was expecting Yveltal.”

“You and I have very different ideas of vacation.” Death strokes their Dartrix. (Someone can’t get their charger to work. Someone tries to run up a wall; someone else tries to keep them still.) “I opted for something less likely to strike fear into people’s hearts.”

Conflict scoffs. “What’s even the point of a vacation, then? 

“From what I understand, it’s to not do your job,” Death says dryly. (A spider is eaten by a crow.)

The two forces regard one another. 

(Here is the problem; 

It’s important to get along with your co-workers. It’s even more important to get along with your co-workers when neither of you is capable of quitting your job.

Here is the problem; 

Conflict never ends. 

Death is only endings.)

(Rust eats at metal.) “You, ah. Relaxing? Then?”

(Five armies battle. Enzymes digest proteins. An old computer fan gets closer to failing.) “As well as I can,” Death says, edging back to wary.

(Wind blows against a cliffside.) 

“Why are you here?” Death asks. 

Conflict laughs, startled. (A fist collides with flesh.) “I wanted an excuse to come see my favorite place in the multiverse!” (Ligaments tear, ATP is made, .) “Are you kidding me? They understand it, here. They embrace conflict. They don’t try any of that repression nonsense, they understand that fighting is life and life is fighting.”

Death does not have what could be described as lips. Death does not, in fact, have many of the features that can be attributed to anything that resembles a person. Death, like Conflict, had needed to pinch a part of themself off and throw it into an ill-fitting sack in order to appear in a physical form. (This is a crude metaphor, but it’s the one that, sadly, makes the most sense.) 

The sacks they both wore were, in fact, so ill-fitting that bits of them both cracked through. It’s the face, you see, that’s the hardest to make work. A face is recognizable. Humans identify with a face. Conflict, then, the most familiar, has it the easiest. They only leak the facade in their eyes, little red X’s where their pupils should be. 

There is a reason Death wears a hood. 

This is all a long-winded way to say; Death does not purse their lips. Death cannot purse their lips. Conflict gets the distinct impression, all the same, that they would if they were able. “Yes,” they say, sounding like they are picking their words the way one picks through a briar patch, stepping carefully and cursing the circumstances that led them there_ . _ “But why are you _ here?” _

Conflict smiles slyly. (A woman fights herself, _ you don’t need to drink _.) “On Melemele? I enjoy the view.”

(And Conflict only feels it for a split second, the flare of _ anger _that rises in the other horseman, but there it is all the same-) 

Death says nothing. To an outsider, they may seem impassive, but Conflict felt the feelings boiling in them, and Conflict’s smirk is a mile wide. 

“Oh, you meant why am I visiting you?” They ask, feigning innocence. “Ah! Why didn’t you just say so?” (And there it is again; magma fights gravity, a claw fights flesh, Death wants to strangle Conflict.) _ Victory _. 

Conflict is tempted to draw this out, but they’ve never had the patience for such things. Besides, any more than two flare-ups and one of the other horsemen will start scolding them for being mean. (“It’s not mean if it’s my existential purpose to maintain conflict,” they had said loftily, and Death had swatted them with a newspaper.) 

“I brought you a present,” Conflict amends. They don’t currently have fingers, but they snap, something, and a Pokè Ball appears in the air before Death. (A robot stabs another.) 

The Dartrix ruffles her feathers. Death asks, sounding wary, “What is this?” 

“It’s a Pokè Ball,” Conflict says, eyes too big, voice too earnest, “they’re used to store Pokémon-“ 

“You are _ exactly _ the reason I needed a vacation,” Death says, voice exhausted, and Conflict gives up, snapping, “You’re such a _ baby!” _

“And you’re such a _ pain!” _

“Oh, very clever, calling Conflict _ pain-“ _

“‘_ Oh vewy cwever, cawwing confwict pain-‘“ _

Conflict rears back. “What the _ fuck _ are you doing?!” 

“Mocking you,” Death fires back, vicious, “I learned it from my new friends, and it’s very fun.” 

“Yes - _ obviously I know what mocking someone is -“ _

“‘_ Owiously I know what mocking someone is-“ _

(Here is the problem; 

Life is conflict. Conflict is Life. 

Here is the problem; 

Siblings do not often get along.) 

“Oh _ fuck you _, I got you an Umbreon!” Conflict finally yells. (A woman searches for her children.) “You dumb bastard!” 

“You don’t have to shout at me!” 

“_ Apparently I do!” _

Death throws their hands in the air; their Dartrix takes to the sky, hooting, and Death whirls on Conflict. “Now look what you made me do, I am _ always _cleaning up your messes-“ 

“We’re back to this! We are _ always back to this! _ ” Conflict prances as they shriek, unfamiliar with Xerneas’s form. “It’s not my _ fault _-“ (Life and Death scream at one another on a beach.) 

“Like you don’t get such a _ thrill _ out of doing this _ every single time _-”

“_ You are such an asshole!” _

“_ That isn’t my fault!” _

Conflict screams wordlessly, the noise deer make when attacked, and the sound echoes off the water (sound ricochets, light bounces, tides move, nothing is at peace until it’s dead).

“Always with the dramatics,” and Death has the nerve to sound _ exasperated. _

“Fuck you,”Conflict seethes. “Enjoy your stupid fucking Umbreon.”

They vanish as quickly as they appeared. Their last thought, before sliding back into a form so massive it encompasses Everything, is, _ Why do I even bother? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! Been looking forward to that for many, many months. 
> 
> I caught an Eevee in Akala, got the Eevee egg, and caught a THIRD eevee, who all evolved, so for the purpose of this story, the role of Yumi the Umbreon will be played by Yumi, Twomi, and Throumi. (Btw; more than one Umbreon entirely breaks the game. Just. From a tank perspective.) 
> 
> See you guys next time in Akala!


	9. Fragment Eight

Lillie sits at a computer in the Heahea library, tapping her pen against her chin, and takes notes on the videos she’s opened. 

There’s old matches from the Alola circuit. Some footage from the Johto and Unova elite four. The thing that most interests her are the phone recordings of the Fighting leader from Hoenn getting beaten by Beuatifly and Zubat and Ralts.

The leader, Brawly, has a Makuhita. Lillie opens more tabs, googles Brawly's Chatter account, his Wikipedia page, (so she can use the sources the articles cites, she doesn't need to remember the many, many lectures about the unreliability of crowdsourced websites,) his trainer history. He's had a few deaths, but according to what Lillie can find, it's statistically average for a fighting-type leader.

Lillie chews her lip. He's...fine, then? Fine as a leader? Fine as a trainer? The problem is that she barely has a control group. Mason's never taken a psychic attack, so she can't compare Clementine to him, and there's very little footage of Hala battling, so she can't even get a read on whether he's actually that good of a trainer, which, all three of them managed to beat him, right, so how good can he really be, except, it's his job to lose, right, for Trainers to beat him so they can move on, he's a test, but if he's a test, and if people are supposed to beat him, then that means—

"What are you doing?" cuts through her thoughts, and Lillie nearly shrieks.

Akala has been...stressful. The past few days have been stressful. The ferry was the worst; she had hidden nearly the entire time, convinced her mother would find her if she stepped foot on the upper deck. (Aether Paradise circled Ula'ula on Tuesdays, and her mother never went above deck, but what if, what if, what if?)

That was when she had started her research.

Kukui had tried to break it down for her, to explain that, well, Psychic moves just hit Fighting types harder, like she was a child who didn't understand type matchups. Like she was stupid, like she didn’t already _ know _.

It had hurt worse than she thought it might, the realization that even Kukui and Burnet would put together that she was just a useless, stupid _ child _. 

Lillie had a phone, technically, but it was a flip phone, (courtesy of Kukui and Burnet, who asked if she wanted something nicer after she had stayed with them for a month, like there was any way she could take more than she already had,) and while it _ could _ connect to the internet, the screen was so small it gave her a headache, and trying to scroll was a nightmare. It was only on the ferry that she finally had some kind of researching ability, courtesy of the many, many, _ many _tourism pamphlets stacked on little kiosks around the boat. 

Some of them had information on Hala, and that was when it started to click. Maybe Lillie _ had _ been training; maybe she _ did _have strong Pokemon; which meant the problem had to be with Hala. 

Now, in the present, Kāne looking at her warily, Lillie scrambles for a way to explain. “The — I’m doing research,” she tells him in a whisper.

“Oh, for the trial?” 

“Not...exactly.” Lillie’s careful to keep her voice down. A librarian is watching them, frowning. Lillie looks back at the computer, flushing. “Can you float, lower? Or something?”

Kāne floats a little lower. “Are you okay?”

“People are _ staring, _” she hisses. 

“There’s one person here.”

“_ Kāne!” _

“Okay, _ geez. _” 

Oh, _ no _, now he’s upset with her. Lillie squirms in her chair, bites her lip, keeps her eyes on the screen. Stupid, she’s so stupid. She starts closing tabs in an effort to do, something, anything. "What are you doing here?"

“I’m just? Vibing? Dude, are you okay?”

Lillie wants, very badly, to make him disappear. For Kāne to go away. For him to leave her in peace so she can just, focus on this, get this done, rip apart the stupid—

Lillie’s breathing has evened out. “I’m fine,” she says, and it sounds like it’s probably not a lie. She didn’t survive fifteen years with Lusamine without learning how to tuck herself away, sometimes. “Sorry.”

“Okay?”

Lillie closes the last tab. “Where’s Death?”

“They went with Hau to get brunch. Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Lillie goes to pack up her things, then, wait. “Wait, why aren’t you with them?”

“I don’t like brunch.”

Lillie wants to ask about that, but. 

Okay, no, she _ really _wants to ask about that. “Why?”

Kāne does a weird thing with his not-shoulders that’s probably supposed to be a shrug. “Seems pretentious.”

“So, you. Went to the library?”

“...I wanted to see if I could download audio books.”

“Oh.”

“Alright, don’t make it _ weird _,” Kāne says defensively. “What are you — you said you’re doing research?”

Lillie flushes again. “Um — just. Pokemon stuff.”

“Okay, so. Normal research.”

Lillie turns more red. “Yeah.”

Kāne doesn’t look like he believes her. 

Great. She’s made herself obvious. She acted weird, and stupid, and she tried to figure out the dumb problem, and this is what she gets! This is what she gets for doing anything, at all, for, crap, _ crap _ , _ no! _

She can see the computer screen. She can hear the fan of the library. She’s here, right, she’s here, in the library. She’s not on Aether. She’s not with her mother. 

Burnet murmurs in her head, “Breathe, frangipani.”

Deflect. Evade. Don’t make this about her. “Did you get any audiobooks?” 

Kāne’s display shifts to annoyance. “No. I still can’t connect to the wifi.”

_ Why not? _ And _ Have you tried looking at your settings? _But, not, she’s. No. She already, she asked about brunch, that’s enough with the questions. 

Or. 

Or, hmm. Maybe. Hmm. “Do you want help?” Lillie tries. 

For the second before Kāne answers, panic grips Lillie with razor sharp claws, ripping into what little assurance she had; he’ll be mad, he’ll be upset, of course he doesn’t need your help, why would you think—

“Can you, uh.” Kāne seems to shift around in the air. “Can you help me out? I’ve got a CD player, I want to try just. Normally downloading some stuff, but I don’t have. Hands.”

Sometimes, Lillie thinks it must be very hard to be Kāne. 

“Yeah,” she says, logging off the computer. “What kind of music do you like?”

“Screamo.”

That fits. 

  
  
  
  


"Darcy," Hau tries, flipping through a keychain kiosk on the Heahea boardwalk.

"No."

"Darren."

"No."

"David."

"No."

"Dean."

"No."

"December?"

"None of these are my name," Death says.

"Yeah," Hau says, still thumbing through plastic. "But maybe one will be, like. Close? What about Delaney?"

"I do not even own keys."

"So? How about Delilah?"

"Hau, what am I possibly going to do with a keychain?"

Hau shrugs. "What are you gonna do with a lei?"

"I will look very pretty; are you...feeling well?"

And that, finally, makes Hau pause.

It's been a good day. It's been a great day. It was a great ride over on the ferry a few days ago, it was a great bunch of battles he got into, except for how they all felt empty and pointless and like he was going through the motions, even though that was impossible because no Pokemon battle was the same, and it was a great win he had against his grandpa, which also felt hollow and useless, but it's fine. It's great! It's all great. Everything should be fine. Today, he and Death (freaking _ Death _) went to the beach and got brunch, because Hau knew that was a thing tourists did, and Hau got to say, "Can I get a virgin mimosa?" and the waiter said, "Do you mean orange juice?" and Hau said, "Yeah, but like, in a fancy glass?"

It's great.

Everything is great.

Hau is hanging out with Death, objectively the coolest person (being??) in existence. Death told Hau that they have a sibling who gave them an Umbreon named Intercontinental Ballistic Missile. That's awesome. Life is good. Life is good! People stopped Death a few times to say hi, to ask questions, to take pictures. Hau needs to re-dye his roots later, the green is starting to wash out, and he feels the crushing psychological dread that maybe he doesn't actually want to be a Pokemon trainer, which he's been working on his whole life, so maybe everything is pointless, but, "I'm feeling great!" Hau tells Death.

Death says, slowly, “I feel as though you may be lying.”

Hau wiggles his arms. “Got all five limbs and all five sense, I am doing _ spectacular. _”

“Hey,” a woman says. “Can my friend take a picture with you?”

Hau turns. There are three people, all wearing black and white; there is a tall woman with multi-colored hair; a blond teenager with more facial piercings than Hau has ever seen on a human being; and a short kid with green hair who looks like he’s about to explode with unbridled glee. 

(Ah, youth. Hau can remember being blown away when he, too, saw Death for the first time. Ages ago. Eons. When he still had things like hope. 

Has he had any water today? Maybe he should drink some water.)

“Hello,” Death says. “Who are you?”

“I’m Al!” The kid blurts. “Hi — are you really Death?”

Death inclines their head. “I am.”

“Can I get your autograph?”

“You may. Do you have a pen?”

“Uh—” Al looks to the woman, who sighs and says, “Gladion, go with him to buy a pen.”

“But—”

“It’s five bucks, I’ll pay you back.”

“Whatever,” the guy evidently named Gladion mutters, but he slouches forward and follows Al inside the nearest tourist trap to get a pen. 

The woman stands there. 

Hau and Death stand there. 

“Hi,” Hau says. 

“Hi.”

“I’m Hau.”

“Plumeria.”

“...I am—”

“I know.”

“Well.” Death sounds put out. “Pardon me, then.”

Wingulls caw in the distance. 

“How come you’re all wearing the same stuff?” Hau asks. 

“It’s a Team Skull thing.”

“Oh!” Death says. “The cult!”

“There’s a cult?!_ ” _

“We’re not a cult?” Plumeria says, alarmed. “We’re a—”

“Oh, yes, forgive me, a gang.”

“_There’s a gang?!” _

“Well.” Plumeria looks uncomfortable. “Not. Really. It’s, like. It’s — my cousin tries to help kids and doesn’t want to admit he has emotions, so he calls it a gang.”

“I feel as though a gang is not safe for children.”

“It’s not a real gang.”

“Wait, why is it called a gang?”

“My cousin’s a moron.”

Al and Gladion return. While Death signs Al’s bandana, Hau casually siddles up to Plumeria. “So what kinda help does your Not Gang do?”

Plumeria keeps an eye on Al while she answers. “Guzma just posts videos on the internet about how to be an adult.”

“Cool, cool. What’s up with the kids?”

Plumeria gives him a look. “Says the child.”

“Hey!”

“But yeah — runaways and shit crash with us a lot, and Guzma like, mails out free clothes, cause he took one graphic design course in high school and thinks he’s a genius.” 

Gladion, who is taking a photo of Al and Death, says, “He’s a fucking moron.”

“Oh, yeah. For sure.”

Hau asks, “What kind of videos?”

Plumeria shrugs. “Just, like. How to make a doctor’s appointment, how to vacuum, weird shit. I got to do one about how to dye hair. I think his boyfriend did one about why drugs are bad.” She makes a face. “He’s got a whole _ thing _about how the trials are bullshit ‘n shit, so he does this stuff instead.”

...huh.

“Do you, like. Help with that stuff?”

“Eh.” Plumeria’s watching Al thank Death for the photo. It’s only when he steps away to check the picture on Gladion’s phone that Plumeria turns to Hau. “Why?”

_ I think I might think the trials are bullshit, too. _“Uh,” Hau says. “Curiosity?”

His face must show something; Plumeria’s face softens. (Her eyes are lined with black and white eyeshadow. Commitment to the bit?) “You want my number? I can answer your questions if you have ‘em.”

“Yeah.” Hau tries not to sound too grateful. “Thanks, yeah.”

She has a Ula’ula area code. 

  
  
  
  


Hau and Death make a sandcastle on the beach. 

When Lillie and Kāne show up, Kāne complains about the sand, and Lillie digs a moat. Hau perches a seashell on one tower and beams. 

Death watches the ocean battle the shore. 

If they squint, they can see Conflict appear in each pass of the waves. 

They do not squint. 

  
  
  
  


Gladion slouches on the Center room couch and watches Al try to beat his high score on snake. 

Al’s Zubat, Angry Jack, has made a nest in Al’s hair. Every time Al says, “New level,” the Zubat’s ears swivel in approval. Gladion would be more charmed if Al wasn’t borrowing his phone to play the stupid game. 

“Did you lose yet?”

Al’s tongue pokes out of his mouth. “No.” 

Gladion flops back against the couch and groans. 

Plumeria, perched in her own chair like a gargoyle, says, “You don’t have to give him your phone.”

“He’s annoying if I don’t!”

“Dang,” Plumeria says, deadpan. “ And he’s really not being annoying now.”

Al’s head jerks up. “I’m not! Fuck—”

It’s too late. The tinny death noise plays over the flip phone’s shitty speakers. Al sighs loudly and hands Gladion his phone back. 

Gladion gets two seconds of smug peace before Al asks, “Can I borrow your phone?”

There are twelve tabs open on Gladion’s phone for apartment listings on all four islands of Alola, and absolutely all of them refuse to rent to anyone under 18. (Timo had offered to forge him an ID, but then he and Guzma got in a fight about it. 

Fucking Guzma.)

Gladion flicks the phone across the table and stands. “I’m going for a walk.”

“Have fun,” Plumeria says. Center rooms have free cable, and she's been glued to the TV screen since they checked in. Her eyes are a little glazed when she tells him, "Don't die."

Gladion keeps the hood of his jacket up while he leaves the Center. He wears eyeliner and pierced his face and shaved his head and his spine still prickles every time he leaves the other Skullies. 

_Thanks, Mom. You unmitigated bitch. _

Gladion breaks into a jog when he gets outside proper, already sweating in the oppressive humidity. (He can’t take off his jacket; it’s part of his outfit.) He’s not sure where he’s going beyond “away.” He ignores the people out and about, the tourists enjoying night life, the people who probably listen to pop music and definitely say things like “effervescent.” What do any of them know?

Living in Skull House, he spent most of his time in his room or avoiding other people. Sometimes he would give out advice, but the other kids are idiots, or morons, or both. He was careful, at least, keeping Edge hidden from nearly everyone, and making sure nobody figured out who his stupid mother was. 

The closest anyone came was when Kaylee signed up from an after-school program with Aether. 

...it was stupid. 

Anyway. 

Alola is wilderness with the occasional dab of concrete, so finding a place off the beaten path isn’t too hard; Gladion just picks the densest looking copse of trees and undergrowth and walks into it, keeping a careful hand on Edge’s ball. 

Sticks and ferns crunch under his sneakers. The further he walks, carefully picking his way through guava and bougainvillea bushes, the louder each footstep gets, noise of the city fading behind him. 

Good. Gladion likes it out here, alone. 

Mostly alone. 

He finds a clearing, lit up beautifully by the full moon. Gladion walks back and forth across it a few times, checking that it’s big enough before he releases his partner. 

Edge appears in a brilliant flash of blue. 

The box is still on their head, and they toss their neck, trying to throw it off. 

“Yeah,” Gladion says, bitter river in his veins singing anew. “They really fucked us over, huh?”

He’s tried rocks, a crowbar, an air hammer gun, one time; everything short of an acetylene torch has been used on that, stupid, taurosshit _ contraption _ on Edge’s head. If Edge wasn’t clearly some kind of weird experiment, with fins and claws and looking like nothing Gladion’s seen before or since, the box would be a dead giveaway that something about them was, like. _ Off. _

Every time he saw it, Gladion’s stomach burned. The bitch did this, just. This was her stupid, fucked up hobby, was making things and ruining them. 

Except for _ her. _

The bitch always liked _ her. _

Edge takes cautious steps around the clearing, soft whuffing noises echoing from inside the box. Gladion sits down to watch them, noting the way the koa and noni trees looked at night, leaves like—

Like black

Like uh—

Gladion frowned. He would figure it out. He was working on a series of short poems. He had learned it was best to take inspiration from the darkness inside him _ and _the darkness around him. He’s got a draft in a notebook somewhere about Edge’s box, even. That’s a good one. Lots of metaphor. 

Edge wanders back over. They prod Gladion with a claw, then settle their massive, boxed head onto Gladion’s lap. 

Gladion strokes them absently. They have strange skin; their feathered neck gives way to rubbery skin, which becomes grey scales. It’s a strange feeling, but one Gladion has gotten used to over the years. He tries to think of a way to describe the leaves while he uses both hands to preen Edge’s feathers. 

Edge jerks up. 

Gladion freezes. Did he pinch them?

Edge charges into the trees, claws kicking up dirt.

“No!” Gladion scrambles to his feet. “No, fuck—come back! Edge! _ Edge! _” He races after them,, or, tries to, but the undergrowth tugs at his jeans, the nighttime plays tricks on his eyes; right? Left? Does that look trampled? Did he hear a sound? Was it Edge, or something else? 

Shit!

“Edge!” Gladion whispers. “Edge?!”

A rustling. 

Gladion whips around, heart hammering, and sees nothing. 

“Edge?” Louder this time, tinged with panic. Edge has never run off, ever. Ever since Gladion gained their trust, Edge hadn’t wandered more than a few feet away. Even when Gladion used the air hammer, it—

Gladion’s not gonna think about that. 

“Damn it,” he mutters, pressing forward, not even sure what direction he’s moving in. “Damn it, damn it —_damn it!_ _Edge!_” Come on, _come on! _Was this some kind of Aether thing?! Did they have some sort of beacon, some kind of mind control, a, a chip? Something? Why didn’t they activate it before now?

Where the fuck is his Pokemon?

He gives up his pitiful attempts at stealth. “Edge!” Gladion yells, throat starting to constrict. “_ Edge! _”

There’s a sound. 

It’s getting louder. 

Gladion turns to flee, but Edge crashes out of the jungle before he can move, finned tail wagging madly, nudging their box against Gladion’s suddenly slumped shoulders.

“What —” Gladion chokes back the urge to cry. “What was that about?!”

Edge whines. The box distorts the noise, but it’s a whine all the same. They circle Gladion like a Stoutland herding Mareep, and whine again. 

“What—I don’t know what you’re doing, what—why’d you run?”

Edge whines a third time. They bump the box into Gladion; he stumbles backward. “Hey, what— hey! Okay! I’m going!”

Edge herds him to the, well, edge, of the wilderness. Once they get close enough that Gladion can hear people, he stops in his tracks and ignores Edge’s attempts to move him. “Are you trying to keep me from something?”

Edge bumps him toward the city again. 

Gladion slowly goes cold. “What’s—”

He’s heard about Pokemon protecting their trainers, of course. That isn’t anything out of the ordinary. But Edge ran off. Edge has _ never _run off. Even the first few times Gladion had released them, terrifying as they had been, Edge hadn’t run. 

“What’s out there?”

Edge’s only response is to bump him, once again, in the opposite direction of whatever it is. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late, but happy one year anniversary to DFTR! Thank you to everyone who's been reading, it means the world to me :D
> 
> Anyway, meet my edgy son, I fished him out of a Hot Topic Dumpster and he's the worst! Here's my weird take on Team Skull, which kind of boils down to "unlicensed Big Brother Big Sister Program run by a moron who's trying his best." We'll get more into it as we go. 
> 
> Huge shoutout and lots of love to schaadenfreude (https://archiveofourown.org/users/schaadenfreude/pseuds/schaadenfreude) who is generously allowing me to borrow their OC Timo. You can read more about him on the Nuzlocke Forums! (https://nuzlockeforums.com/forum/threads/mw2-the-delinquent-sing-the-rage.19231/) A second shoutout to glancesherlock (https://archiveofourown.org/users/glancesherlock/pseuds/glancesherlock) for the jokes about Hau getting a virgin mimosa and Death trying to find a keychain with their name on it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	10. Wedge Nine

In the morning, Lillie plaits her hair. 

It’s nearly down to her waist. Her mother liked it long. Lilie brushes one hundred strokes every night before bed, and keeps extra bottles of shampoo and conditioner in her duffle bag (now used to house things that aren’t unknown Pokemon). 

Yesterday, when Lillie and Kāne headed back to the Center, three screamo albums successfully downloaded onto Kāne’s hard drive, they had passed a place offering a special, “we just opened” promotion, $5 for a haircut. 

Lillie has five dollars. 

...it's fine. She and Hau and Death (and Kāne) are leaving in an hour for Paniola. The plan is to train there for the Brooklet Hill trial. 

Speaking of; “Yes, thank you,” Lillie tells Mason when he hands her her backpack. His chest puffs up a little. Lillie grins and ruffles the Makuhita’s topknot before she returns him. Sammie, of course, is already in their ball, but Leo’s still lounging on the bed. 

On instinct, Lillie’s hand reaches for her duffle bag. For a split second, when nothing inside moves, her pulse spikes, crap, Nebby’s gone, but no, no. 

No.

Nebby’s on Melemele. Burnet sends her photos sometimes, of Nebby following her around the house, and it never fails to make Lillie’s face do funny things. 

“It’s good, right?” she asks Leo, flopping on the bed next to him so he can scratch his belly. “That Nebby’s bonded with her?”

Leo blinks and purrs, stretching out. He’s nearly as big as her. He’ll be a monster when he’s fully evolved. 

Lillie watches his paws knead the air. “Why do I feel  _ bad? _ ”

Leo purrs impatiently. 

Lillie resumes giving him belly rubs. “It’s dumb, I guess.”

It's been the easiest week of her life, living without Nebby, but even thinking that brings a sour taste to her mouth. The feeling, hot and acidic, a sharp line from the back of her throat to the base of her stomach, is as familiar as her own hands. 

“I shouldn’t feel guilty,” Lillie tells Leo glumly. “I think. I dunno.” 

Her gut squirms. 

Deflect. Evade. Don’t make this about you. Lillie tries to change the subject. “Hey, wanna see pictures?” (Dumb question, stupid question, she is talking to a Pokemon who does not care what she talks about,  _ whatever. _ ) She fishes her phone out of her pocket and opens her messages with Burnet, turning so she can swipe through the photos the professor sent. “She and Nebby are doing teleportation experiments to test Nebby’s range. She said Nebby made it all the way to Akala last night!”

Leo’s purring gets more obnoxious. He butts his head against her hand, nearly knocking the phone away. 

“Leo!” Lillie scolds. “No!”

The purring cranks up another notch. 

“You’re insufferable,” Lillie says primly. “Yes, other things exist besides you.” She goes back to the photos. Burnet’s still trying to figure out what kind of Pokemon Nebby  _ is _ , exactly, since Nebby isn’t like anything Burnet - or, really, anyone - has seen before. 

Aether Paradise, Lillie’s home for the first fifteen years of her life, is a marine biology research center with a focus on conservation of the local flora and fauna. One of the first things Lillie had learned (and she remembers being six years old, and learning the Corsola that had been caught were being used to feed the Mareanie in one of the tanks,) was that humans had interfered with nature to the point of nearly ruining it. 

“Some people,” Lusamine had told her, brushing her hair soothingly while Lillie watching in the mirror, red faced from crying, still upset about the Cosola, “are very cruel. And they interfere too much. It’s our job to try and interfere just the right amount to undo what they did.” She had tucked Lillie’s hair behind her hairs and smiled at her in the mirror. Her eyes were the same green as Lillie’s. “It’s a balancing act. We have to make sure we do just enough to undo what happened.”

Lillie walked in on her mother doing,  _ something _ , to a Pokemon no one has ever seen before. 

Since then, the question that’s really plagued Lillie, even more than, “What does Nebby eat?”, has been, “What is Mother  _ doing? _ ”

  
  
  
  


“I spy with my little eye something that begins with  _ D. _ ”

“Is it Death.”

“Yeah! Point for you, your turn.”

“This game is stupid,” Kāne says. 

Hau sticks out his tongue. He was the one to suggest the game, something easy to play as they walked to Paniola. He walks with his hands linked behind his head, face tipped back to catch the sun that shines through palm leaves and dapples ferns. 

“I can take your turn, if you do not want it,” Death offers. 

“You know what, sure, knock yourself out.”

“I spy, with my little - do I continue the rhyme, if I do not have eyes?”

Lillie startles. “You don’t have eyes?”

“I have an approximation.”

“You have to put that in the rhyme.”

Death nods. “I spy, with my approximation of an eye, something that begins with  _ h.” _

Lillie says, “Hau?”

“Not… quite.”

“Oh,” Kāne says, “human.”

“Very good! Your turn.”

“I’m not playing.”

Hau asks, “How come you keep guessing?”

“You all suck at I Spy and it pains me.”

“Hey,” Lillie protests.

“Oh, hey!” Hau perks up and jogs over to one the trees lining route 4, reading the sign that’s been pasted on. “It’s Lillipup season!  _ And they need people to socialize them _ !” 

Lillie gasps; Kāne grunts; and Death says, “Forgive me; it it  _ what  _ season?” 

  
  
  
  


“Oh,” Death says, looking around the mass of dogs. “It is Lillipup season.”

“Yay,” Kāne mutters, hovering further and further up to avoid sharp little teeth. “I’m not a frisbee! Go away!” 

“We are here to socialize them,” Death says amicably, gingerly taking a seat. “They seem to be very social.” Sure enough, one lopes right up to Death and curls up in their lap.

Kāne floats higher. “I don't know how yet, but I am going to kill you.” 

Hau lies flat on his back, letting puppies crawl all over him. "I can die happy," he says reverently. 

"This is not when you die." 

" _ I want it to be. _ " Hau turns to Death, one eye closed to avoid slobber while a Lillipup licks at his face. "Can I pick when I die?" 

"Hau," Death says gravely, petting their sleeping Lillipup. "I am holding a puppy. Please do not ask me about free will versus determinism."

Lillie sits down, carrying a squirming puppy of her own. “Hi,” she says. 

Hau peeks up. “Hi. Uh.” The dog keeps trying to escape Lillie’s arms. “Are you doing okay?” 

Oh, yes,” Lillie says, looking frazzled. “My mother says I'm like her, I'm naturally maternal.” 

“Hmm,” Hau says, watching the puppy struggle. “Okay.” 

Kāne is yelling at puppies in the background.

“Excuse me.” 

The group turns as one to look at the aged owner of Paniola. Her skin is weathered and leathery. She holds her hat in two hands. Her voice is firm. “Mr. Death?” 

“I am not a mister,” Death says in what Hau has come to recognize as their customer service voice. 

“Mrs.—” 

The aggressive politeness increases another notch. “No, that's not right either—how can I help you?” 

The woman’s grip on her hat tightens. “Would you mind horribly if we spoke in private for a few minutes? Got a dog that needs looking at.” 

“... I am not a nurse, madam.” 

“I know,” the woman says simply. “If I needed a nurse, I woulda called a nurse.” 

Uh-oh.

Something changes in the set of Death’s shoulders. “I see.” They gently scoop up their puppy and give the dog to Lillie, then stand and brush off their robe. “Kāne, would you care to join me?” 

“Sure,” Kāne mutters, zipping away from the trail of dogs trying to catch him. “Why not.” 

  
  
  
  


The ranch owner takes them to the house. 

It's a nice house. Farm-y. Logs and shit. Kāne isn't sure why he's so focused on the house. Got a nice, like. Roof. 

Why does he care about this house? 

The ranch owner holds the door for them. “Name’s Maisy,” she says. “We got the, set-up in the kitchen.”

There’s a brick fireplace. Cast-iron skillet on the stove. Floor’s wood. Fridge looks old. 

There’s a thing on the kitchen table that looks like a weird microwave. Inside, on a nest of blankets, is the tiniest Lillipup Kāne’s ever seen. He has to concentrate to see the barely-there rise and fall of its flank.

Maisy pulls up a chair. “He’s not doing too well.”

“Yes,” Death says quietly. “I see that.”

Maisy looks to Kāne, then back to Death. “I’ve got. Savings-”

“Ah,” Death says heavily. “You want to  _ bargain. _ ” They say it like it’s a dirty word.

Maisy falls silent. 

There’s a blanket hung up on one wall. Seems weird to put a blanket there. 

The Lillipup snuffles, then falls silent again. 

The incubator hums. 

“I cannot stop this,” Death says stiffly, voice lanced with something shockingly acidic. “This is not my job. Excuse me.” 

They turn away. Kāne hesitates only a moment before following them. 

It’s much louder outside, but in a more distant way. From up here on the ranch house, you can see everything. There’s other people here, playing with their own pups. There’s Mudsdale and Ponyta in one pasture. 

_ There’s a whole lot of living _ , thinks the dead man. 

Death stands still, bony fingers tapping at their robe. “You know,” they say, and it takes Kāne a second to realize they’re  _ seething _ . “I am on vacation.”

“... sorry.”

“I-” Death gestures at the pasture. “First of all, it does not matter if I am or not, I do not, I am not the, I do not  _ determine _ —I was holding a puppy! I was meant to be exempt from this!”

Guilt and resentment claw and chew up through Kāne’s wiring. “You really can’t do anything?”

Death whirls so fast that Kāne moves back. “ _ That is not my decision!  _ It is not, it is not a matter of punching a clock, or, or following a script, I do not—the issue is not whether you stupid fools have free will, it is whether  _ I _ do!  _ And I wanted to take a break!” _

They stand there, two beings with no choice.

The dead man stares at Death, who seems to wilt. “Forgive my outburst,” they say, and Kāne doesn’t know  _ what  _ tone  _ that  _ is. “I.” They sigh. “I do not. Handle stress well.”

_ Why is it stressful?  _ Kāne wants to ask.  _ Cause you want to do something, but can’t? Or because someone’s bothering you about your job?  _ What’s he supposed to do? Comfort the being who seems utterly indifferent to the dying puppy in the other room?

It shouldn’t eat at Kāne, but it does, and as they head back to Hau and Lillie, he wonders; What  _ does  _ Death think about dying?

  
  
  
  


In the three years Pele has worked at Aether Paradise, she's never had an intern quite like Jon.

Studious interns, yes. Coffee addicts, sure. But Jon Doyle is the only one who spends at least one night a week insisting he can handle it, only to be dead asleep at his computer when Pele gets there the next morning.

Today, she found him in the break room, glasses folded into his shirt pocket, curls crinkled on one side, drooling lightly.

Pele quietly shut the door, made a paper "OUT OF ORDER" sign to hang up, and let him be.

It shouldn’t surprise her that Jon barges into her office a few hours later, lab coat wrinkled, glasses askew, and visibly put out. “Why didn’t anyone wake me up!”

Pele puts down her pen. “Good afternoon, dear. Have you considered going home at night?”

“I had—I was  _ working _ ,” he says, sounding remarkably like Pele’s youngest when she’s told to take her bath. 

“You were asleep.”

“ _ Before that,  _ I was working.” Jon knuckles his glasses up and pats himself down. He pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his coat pocket. “Here—there were flares on Akala last night.”

Pele’s eyebrows fly into her hairline. 

(The other reason Jon is not like any of her other interns; Jon has a keycard to the lower floors.)

“Why were you watching Akala?”

“I had a hypothesis.” Jon flattens the paper and slides it to her. “Look, outside Heahea, there were two flares last night.” He’s written down measurements for “flares,” bursts of energy able only to be detected by Aether’s specialized instruments. “I think D—the, my, hypothesis, is that this is Death.”

“...sorry?”

“Death?” Jon takes a seat. He’s vibrating a little. “The Horseman? They’re wandering around Alola, haven’t you heard?”

Oh, Pele’s heard. “Unfortunately.” Lizzy, the youngest, who won’t take baths, has been having nightmares. And Kanuha, who’s determined to give Pele a heart attack before he graduates high school, thinks this is  _ cool _ . 

Jon nods, curls bouncing. “Right; I think that’s our link. To Ultra Space, I mean.”

Pele sighs. “Jon. Dearheart. I need you to—”

“Explain myself when I speak and not assume everyone makes the same jumps I do  _ and also not interrupt people I’m sorry _ ,” Jon adds hastily. “Anyway, I think Death can make wormhole jumps. They have to travel across time and space, right? It makes sense.”

“Johnathan.”

“That’s not my name.”

“Jonjamin,” Pele says instead, which is also not Jon’s name. “First of all, I’m impressed by your initiative. Second, I wish you would sleep at your house on occasion. Third; did you use the spectrometer before or after you created your Death hypothesis?”

Jon does a spectacular impression of a Deerling in headlights. “Hmm,” he says. 

“Hmmm,” Pele agrees. “It’s interesting, because you’re not supposed to have that trained on our portal.”

Jon squirms. “I—”

“Jon.” Pele’s voice is firm. “We are looking for two missing persons. And you decided to run the spectrometer on Akala.”

“Okay, it—”

“If I check the logs for last night, what will I find? Did you fudge data?”

“No!” Jon at least has the decency to look sheepish. “I just—I wrote down that it went offline—”

“ _ Jon _ . You used delicate equipment-”

“If you would just—”

Jon!” 

Jon’s mouth closes with an audible click. 

Pele resists the urge to rub her temples. “Okay. I know you’re a smart young man. I know you have an explanation. Before you give me that explanation, I want you to know that whatever it is is not going to make up for what you’ve done. Do you know what you’ve done?”

“... tampered with a scientific investigation and ruined the integrity of the data?”

“You’ve tampered with a scientific investigation and ruined the integrity of the data,” Pele agrees. "And you can articulate that to me, so I know you know what you did wrong." She raises her eyebrows just a little and shifts her voice for the full Mom effect. "I'm disappointed in you."

Jon squirms again.

Good. It's working. "What should do you do the next time you want to test a hypothesis involving equipment you're only supposed to monitor?"

"Get permission," Jon mutters, sulking. 

"Exactly. Now." Pele leans forward in her chair. "Why did you do this?"

"I think Death can help us find the subjects," Jon bursts out. "They have to be using wormholes to get around—no, I see the face you're making, I know, I—" Jon closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and lets it out in a woosh before continuing, now sounding less like he's about to explode. "Death is a multi-dimensional entity. I trained the spectrometer—without permission, and I'm sorry, but you know Ms. Aarden would never give it to me, which isn't an excuse,  _ but let me finish _ —on Akala to try and check if they were using dimensional portals, like the ones we’re looking for, and I found  _ two _ . There were two openings, like Death—I am  _ quantifying _ , don't make that face—like Death,  _ or something else _ , left Akala and came back.” 

“Or appeared on Akala-”

“And then left,” Jon finishes impatiently, “but I’m pretty sure it's Death.” 

Pele considers this. 

First of all, correlation does not equal causation, which Jon is normally smart enough to know. 'Death' and 'wormholes' doesn't prove that Death opens wormholes. (Though wormholes on Akala has quite a few staggering implications on it's own.) Second, well. Wormholes on Akala. 

And third, "Did you attempt, at all, to ask Ms. Aarden if you could use the spectrometer outside of it's designated function?"

"No. I used what I know of her and her attitude to draw a conclusion about her continued behavior. I made a hypothesis, I was very scientific."

"You made a hypothesis which you didn't test," Pele says gently. "That's an assumption. And this is a workplace, not a science experiment." She smiles slightly. "I know it looks like one, but."

In silence, Jon rapidly taps one finger against her desk, face pinched. Pele only needs to wait a moment before he says, "Sorry," not sounding sorry at all, and continues on with, "but, we have a lead."

"We have a lead, which you obtained by using equipment you didn't request permission for." Pele rests her head on her folded hands. "How did you plan to tell Mrs. Aarden that you reached this staggering scientific achievement?" 

One of the advantages of working on the lower floors of a floating island is that Pele gets to watch the fish swim behind Jon's head while he visibly struggles to come up with an answer.

"That's what I thought," Pele says, not unkindly, watching an Alolmola drift by. 

“It—” Jon purses his lips, sucks his teeth, and continues. “Death can make wormholes jumps—Death can  _ probably  _ make wormhole—we’re talking in circles! I think we should talk to Death! I think they could be a valuable asset to our project, so I tried to prove it!” 

Pele has three children. She long ago learned that if you sit very quietly and watch someone with raised brows, they’ll draw the conclusion you want them to. 

Jon is no exception. After a few moments of looking upset, he deflates. “And I. Should have asked first, before disrupting the work we’re doing here.” 

“Mhmmm.” Pele stands. “I’m glad we agree. What will you do in the future?” 

“Get permission before using valuable scientific equipment to further my own ideas,” Jon mutters. 

Pele pats his shoulder. “There you go.” She's almost proud. 

Then Jon blurts, “But Death  _ could be  _ a valuable—okay, yes ma’am, I’m going—” 

“No you aren't, sit back down.” Pele pins him to the chair with her gaze like a Mothim on a cork board. “If you want us to pursue this, _write out a suggestion_. First, go brush your teeth, but then, _write that down_ _and give it to Ms. Aarden._ See what happens.” 

“But—” 

“Don’t operate under assumptions!  _ Test  _ that hypothesis of yours!” She shakes his shoulder, just a little. “And in the meantime, pack up. We’re going on a field trip.” 

Jon blinks, startled. “What?” 

Pele levels a finger at him. “I'm not leaving you here unsupervised, I clearly can't trust you. I  _ also  _ can't discount your findings; we’re looking for two missing persons, and any less is a good lead.” She holds up a finger. “ _ But _ , I would be deeply irresponsible as your supervisor if I allowed this to go unpunished. So, pack up. I'll draft the proposal for Ms.Aarden for the two of us to investigate your Death lead.” Pele knows the right buzzwords to use to get automated approval. “You're not allowed to talk to them, and you still need to write an original proposal for using the spectrometer.” She pauses. “And, Jon? If this wasn't about missing persons, you would be fired.” 

Jon pales. 

Oh, good. She's finally gotten through to him. Pele continues with grim satisfaction; “We don't know what you  _ missed  _ in Ultra Space when you took those readings. You may have missed the whatever-it-was jumping through, or giving us a lead on where in Ultra Space it  _ was _ . You  _ may  _ have given us a lead, but you  _ also  _ may have buried one. Do you understand?” 

Jon at least has the decency to look shame-faced. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Hey.” Pele pats his shoulder. “This doesn't make you a bad person. It just means you need to work on your long-term thinking skills. Don't—yes, I’m sure they're excellent, except for this demonstrably terrible example.” 

Jon, who raised his hand, puts it back down. 

“Now,” Pele shoos him out the door. “Go get your stuff, we got work to do.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this choppy as hell? Do Lillie and Kāne have the same ending to their chapters? Do I love Jon? Yes!
> 
> No update for next month, since I'm doing NaNo, but I hope this tides everyone over till December. Thanks for reading!


End file.
